Silver Linings and Grey Areas
by Mescerises
Summary: Draco expected to spend every minute of his ten year Azkaban sentence in bitter purgatory but is stunned when—of all people—Harry Potter and Hermione Granger arrive to set him free, at great personal cost. Stuck together for two years, Draco must learn to carve out happiness in silver linings and the grey areas. [Not Abandoned, just not Updated Much]
1. Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy had accepted that he would _never_ feel clean again. He had come to terms with the pitiful excuse of a diet he would endure for the foreseeable future, and was slowly getting used to being pushed, jabbed, or attacked whenever he made the mistake of looking the wrong way—which was sometimes the opposite direction of his assailant, while other times the mistake was looking directly at them.

He refused to accept that _any_ of this was okay.

Locked away and forgotten after a war he'd wanted nothing to do with was done, and his _so-called_ side had lost, Draco Malfoy had refused to come to terms with his situation. He refused to accept that he deserved any of it.

That his father would rot away in Azkaban until he died did nothing to ease the wounds of betrayal or calm his rage. That his mother was never subjected to their harsh and unforgiving walls did, but that she had never seen fit to visit him in this uniquely personal hell only made it worse.

Either she blamed him for never being strong enough to refuse his father, or she blamed herself for being the knife held against his throat for so many years. Regardless, she did nothing for him now, when he needed her most.

She was definitely not the person waiting in the dingy visitor's room at the end of the hall, which Draco was now being pushed toward, despite his deep reservations.

He never expected to see Harry fucking Potter, or his sidekick Granger, let alone both of them.

He seethed at the sight of pity in their eyes.

"You're bleeding."

Well, that threw Draco off.

His scowl shifted in favor of a look of confusion. He moved his conjoined hands up to check his face for any damage he had failed to catalogue and was immediately forced into the closest wall by the human Azkaban guard who had just accompanied him into the room.

Draco's unexpected guests immediately screamed. Their tones betrayed how angry and scared and conflicted they were to be defending _Draco Malfoy_ , who stood pressed against a wall with the breath knocked out of him.

The guard stepped back and Draco collapsed to his knees, using the wall to regain his footing. He gradually turned to the duo, who'd stood in protest, but hadn't left their spots at the table.

Draco expected to see Saint Potter failing to hide a smug look, an expression Draco had come to recognize—and loathe—over the years of their childish rivalry; instead he saw the eyes of a man forced to acknowledge a harsh truth and felt disgusted by it.

Granger, who he had tormented and taunted for years, was less cowed by the experience. If anything, her resolve seemed hardened; the pity Draco had first seen in her eyes was now replaced by a raging fire.

 _Perhaps the role of sidekick has switched._

The three took their seats—Draco last—but said nothing. The silence must have been deafening to the two Gryffindors, who were unused to the simple Slytherin tactic, but Draco was bred to manipulate, and—more to the point—get information. Most humans were so ill equipped to handle silence, they spilled so much more if it meant ending the dreadful emptiness, than if they were simply asked.

"You look like absolute shit." Potter would be the first to crack, and while his remarks were far beneath the level of dialogue Draco was craving these days, the truth of it hit home and Draco snorted.

"What Harry means to say is that… well, yes you do look a mess, but you seem well, otherwise. Sane," Granger said, taking files and paperwork out of a bag unseen from Draco's seat and spreading them out across the table between them.

"I can't remember what warm water feels like and I have an unholy craving for apples, but otherwise, yes. I have managed to keep it together, mostly."

Draco flashed something that he supposed looked like a smile, but couldn't be sure it didn't come across as a weak sneer. It was hard to judge, based on the reactions of the two across from him. Potter looked down at his hands, unable to keep eye contact for longer than a few seconds, while Granger huffed.

"It was an absolute disgrace, sending you to Azkaban," Granger began, her hands shaking.

Draco agreed. He reminded himself of this daily, refusing to let the Ministry win by breaking him, but hearing it from the champion of Muggle-borns—along with house elves, and whatever other pet-projects the ridiculous witch had picked up since Hogwarts—say it herself elicited a strong reaction from Draco.

"Ten years in Azkaban, serving a minimum of three years before a possible review. There's a considerable fee associated with your release, as well as a ridiculously long list of conditions upon which said release is contingent," Granger went on to say, repeating the terms of his sentence.

Draco never expected anyone to consider trying to have him released after the three years. Sure, a small part of him held a secret hope. That hope died when on the third year marking his incarceration passed, exactly the same as the 1095 days preceding it.

But it was never the cost or the conditions that Draco thought would block his freedom, despite the draconian implications associated with what would pass for freedom under the Ministry's conditions.

" _And our final condition: a sponsor. Your release is conditional on a sponsor claiming full responsibility for your actions and well-being. You are to work with them, at their place of employment, reside with them at their own expense, and exist in their presence for two full years. They must be willing to endure the punishments society will undoubtedly dispense upon you in your day to day life as if said punishments were their own. They cannot have been in your House at Hogwarts, or have any known association with the Dark Arts…."_

Draco shuddered at the memory of his sentencing. With conditions like that, he accepted then that he would indeed be forced to endure the full term of his imprisonment.

Granger stopped rattling on, having been speaking for the past several minutes, and regarded Draco. He could only imagine what was going through her mind, only able to picture how his thoughts played out on his face, if at all.

They might think he's finally cracked, and they're to blame.

 _Good._

Granger looked helplessly at Potter, who locked eyes with her and sighed, nodded, and then turned to Draco.

"We're sorry it took us this long to get here. We've been petitioning for access for months, but they only relented last week."

Draco opened the eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed and looked at Potter. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he closed it again.

"Your mother wanted to come with us but we couldn't let her," Potter added, earning a wide eyed glare from Draco. "We've been doing everything we can to keep her safe, and bringing her here to see you would only put a new bulls eye on her back."

Draco said nothing. _Mother wanted to visit me?_

"Hermione was getting to it, but it's probably easier just said plain out," Potter went on, pausing to give a sheepish smile to Granger, who rolled her eyes but with a smile on her face.

"We're getting you out of here. We have the money, we have a team of solicitors fighting back some of the more ridiculous terms of your release, and we have a sponsor."

Draco said nothing. He felt nothing. There was a rushing noise in his ears, like water crashing against rocks, and his eyes started to prickle, but no tears dropped.

"What?" he finally managed to croak out.

Potter—no, Harry, Draco thought, although the childhood nickname of Saint Potter now seemed more fitting than ever—took Granger's hand and squeezed it. She nodded, smiling brightly.

"We've tried before, but were rejected. This time we have a solid case, and in a few days you'll be out of here," Potter said, finding a form among the pile of papers Granger—Hermione, dammit—had laid out earlier and spinning it to face Draco.

"Who would be daft enough to chain themselves to me for two years of hell? Two years which, I imagine, will feel like an eternity?" Draco asked, his words biting as he started to build walls of resentment. He wanted to defend himself from this unexpected onslaught of hope.

He picked up the piece of paper, his hands betraying the cold façade of dismissal he was playing at as they shook.

Potter laughed, leading Granger to hit him.

"Us."


	2. Chapter 2

Draco carried all of his worldly possessions in a small bundle with both arms, following Granger as they walked out of Azkaban sometime in the middle of the night, edging on the early morning.

He was supposed to have been released shortly after dinner, but the guards had different plans and ultimately Hermione Granger waited in the atrium for seven and a half hours before Draco Malfoy stumbled out of the final check point in the prison with ratty prison clothes hanging off his sharp angles, a cut under his eye and everything he had been arrested carrying wrapped up in a small bundle.

The broken pieces of his wand were among them.

"Come along then, let's get you out of this hellhole," said Granger, too angry to say much more but too tired to do anything about it. A swish of her wand revealed a small otter, which circled Draco before swimming away a message with a message for Potter.

The two left the overbearing presence of the prison for the Apparation point, outside of the building proper and down the pier. As soon as they were away from the guards, Hermione turned and wrapped Draco in an uncomfortably tight hug.

"Merlin, could they have stalled any longer?" Hermione huffed when she let go of him seconds later, evidently pretending the hug never happened as she brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face.

Draco made no movement, holding in a sharp gasp from the pain her hug had caused thanks to the new batch of bruises on his back.

"I'm sorry that I'm the only one here to get you. It made more sense at the time to have Harry stay at home to cook and finish preparing a room for you. I bet those bastards would have sent you out on the proper time if he had been the one to fetch you," she added, her voice taking on a hard, bitter tone by the end.

"But then I would be the one home cooking and then you'd never want to eat, so this is how it was. Again, I'm sorry."

Draco took her hand, which startled her out of her borderline self-pity rant and reminded her what they were there to do. Turning on the spot without any warning, Hermione brought the pair to the alley across the street from the townhouse where she and Harry – and now Draco – lived in East London.

"Welcome to the pretentiously titled Argyll House," said Granger, leading the way across the empty road to the dimly lit building. "It's actually quite lovely, but you purebloods sure know how to put the pomp into pomp and circumstance."

A joke. Not a very good one, but the first one Draco heard in over three years not at his own expense.

He smiled a ghost of a smile and continued following her up the walk.

The door opened before Granger could set her hand to the knob, Potter standing there looking as tired as Draco felt, and immediately wrapped his arms around her.

"Get lost on your way home? Stop for a movie on the way?" Harry asked, more terrible jokes for Draco to enjoy.

"Har har, Harry." Granger said, moving past him and into the hallway to rid herself of her coat and begin to strip away the memories of Azkaban.

Draco, with so many more than her, would have a harder time.

"You doing okay?" Harry asked, eyeing up the Slytherin.

"I'm in one piece."

"If you say so."

Harry moved aside, letting Draco enter. The townhouse, which had been unremarkable from the outside, was actually quite lovely on the inside. Airy, with lots of natural light coming in – which for now was just the street light, but Draco would take it – and clean surfaces.

Potter waited until Draco was done taking in the space before pointing down the hallway.

"We figured you'd be better off getting food into you first, a chance to ask us some questions you want answers to right away, and then you can settle in – unpack, clean up, everything."

Draco nodded, grateful that the impossible choice between a shower and a meal had been made for him.

Granger sat in the kitchen waiting for the pair of them, hovering over a kettle as if willing it to ready faster. Waiting on the table for Draco was scrambled eggs, a pile of toast and a large bowl of assorted berries.

Draco sat down, slowly set his bundle on the seat beside him and began to eat. Intellectually he knew he had to go slowly or he would get sick and it would all be for nothing, but this was his first real meal in over three years and he could barely contain himself.

Eating afforded Draco an opportunity to take in the pair in front of him, different but entirely recognizable from the people they were before.

Potter had a beard now and had filled out from his former 17 year old, half-starved form, not that Draco in his current form could really judge. He stood, more confidence in him now than he ever had as a child, against the counter with a cup of tea Granger handed him, mulling silently as he drank.

Granger was just as changed, sitting across from Draco with a mug of her own. Her once riotous mane, probably three feet in length when wet, had been chopped off. Now her hair hesitated to touch her shoulders, and she looked considerably better for it. She had grown up as well, less soft and more deliberate in her shaping. She was perfectly lovely, and Draco swallowed heavily with the thought.

 _What are these two playing at? And where's the Weasel?_

"So we figure you probably have a million and a half questions. Of course we can answer some tonight but we've both taken off the next two weeks to help you get back to normal, so don't feel rushed or anything," said Granger, offering him a cup of tea.

He declined, opting to instead ask the question that had haunted him since their first visit.

"Why did you stop my mother from seeing me?"

Harry let out a deep sigh, hinting to his involvement on the matter. "We didn't want to keep her away from you, not exactly. Keeping your mum out of prison and getting you a shorter-than-life sentence was pretty much the limit of my political capital at the end of the war. Everyone loved me, but they hated you more. That she walked free, having never been caught actually doing anything with the Death Eaters, pissed a lot of people off."

He paused, looking up and locking eyes with Draco, who barely acknowledged what he said. He took a deep breath and exhaled again, continuing.

"At first there was an attempt on her life once a week. It died down a bit after a few months, then picked back up around the first year anniversary. She was staying with me by that point for extra protection."

Granger saw the pain on Potter's face and took over, giving him a chance to reign in his emotions.

"It afforded me some time to work on the appeal to get you out. I put the first one in about fourteen months after your conviction. I put myself forward as your sponsor, using my war reparations and all the award money I received from the war to cover the cost," Granger explained, at which point Draco rolled his eyes.

He could just imagine how decimated his personal vaults has been by the war reparations and how much wealthier the Weasel would be than him, an ironic twist in fate his eleven year old self would have been devastated to learn.

"My application was denied two-fold," continued Granger, unfazed by his reaction in the face of a lengthy answer.

"You needed to be able to work with me but I don't have a regular Monday to Friday, nine to five job, so you couldn't be _adequately punished_ that way," her tone dripping with derision.

"The second issue is that with my work I deal with the Dark Arts on an almost daily basis, despite not really _technically_ using them myself. Either way, I was denied."

Draco watched her, turning her cup in circles as she explained. In the periphery, Potter was watching her with a soft smile but with sad eyes. Draco was only more confused by the reaction.

"It was at this point that I started on a new appeal, with Harry set as your sponsor. Figured he's their damn Chosen One, who could say no to him? Turns out the Wizengamot, on a technicality."

Harry snorted, looking at Hermione with a raised eyebrow that led Draco to take on the same expression. Granger glared at them both before continuing.

"Harry has never been associated with the Dark Arts and doesn't work with them directly in the way that I tend to, so he should have been fine on that count. Only they decided to hold against him that he had survived the Killing Curse twice as a result of Dark Magic, even though it was unknown to him and against his will," she explained, grumbling.

"We challenged their decision, considering that information about Harry isn't supposed to be public knowledge and would be if the decision was upheld and won, but they refused to change their decision as it specifically regarded you. So, Harry couldn't sponsor you either."

Draco understood Potter's reaction to Granger's definition of a technicality but was more confused now.

"But if you were both denied, then how—?"

"You can thank your mother. She's a brilliant witch," said Granger, who was – to Draco's surprise – entirely sincere in her praise of his mother.

"She rooted through a few of the old Black libraries and found an obscure bonding ritual that for legal purposes combined Harry and I into one citizen, one who had not been rejected in their appeal for your freedom."

Potter looked considerably less amused and quite uncomfortable at this point, as Granger explained to Draco in a no nonsense, _laissez-faire_ way that she and Potter had pretty much gotten married just so they could spring him free.

"Were you two even dating before the bonding?" Draco asked, gobsmacked, although he could guess.

They both snorted, Granger letting out a small chuckle with hers.

"Ron and I had split during my appeal to sponsor you, so I was right and properly single at the time," Granger explained, her eyes twinkling.

"Harry, however, was dating Ron's sister Ginny. We had asked her to be your sponsor after we were both denied but she adamantly refused. The idea of the bonding, while by no means equivalent to marriage, pushed her over the edge."

The dark smile on Granger's face at Potters discomfort made Draco believe that somehow, he could make this work. The way Potter used wandless magic to make Granger's tea lightly scald her fingertips in retaliation only assured him further.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco entered what was now his room, clutching his bundle tightly. Granger stood at the doorway while he looked around, torn between pleasure and discomfort by the sheer size of it.

 _Definitely not in Azkaban anymore._

"We opted for light greys and blues. You're more than welcome to replace anything in here that doesn't suit you, but green just seemed so cliché and after so long in that dreary place, I figured you would appreciate the change of palette."

Draco noticed the shift from plural to singular pronouns but said nothing. He was sitting on his bed, not a four poster like he'd had at the mansion but still quite sizable, and considerably softer than anything he'd touched in the past few years.

A bookcase, filled with familiar titles he assumed his mother had shipped over, stood beside a desk – his desk, where a stack of parchment was centered. A chaise by the window was waiting with a book already on it.

"Your private bath is through this door here," said Granger, gesturing to one side, "and your closet through here. There's parchment on the desk – make a list of clothes you would like with your sizes and one of us will pick them up. They're just to tide you over until you're ready to go out into the world and get whatever you want then."

 _Translation: no bespoke suits for you._

Not that Draco could really complain, knowing how much it had cost from the outset to release him let alone the future costs of upkeep.

"Why?"

Draco had asked repeatedly why the Wonder Duo were throwing away their lives to save his but he hadn't gotten any answers. Potter he could only imagine, what with the life debt he owed Mother. Granger, however, stumped him.

"You might not like to hear this but it was my muggle sense of morality," admitted Granger, sitting against the edge of Draco's new bed. "Prisons in the muggle world are vastly different from Azkaban. They're clean, orderly, and prisoners are safe from abuse. Azkaban is positively medieval in comparison."

Draco wasn't keen on hearing how much better muggles locked each other up but he wouldn't disagree that Azkaban was crudely organized. Most days were spent alone in his single occupancy cell, always cold and wet but never feeling clean. It was often dark, blurring the days together, and food was doled out so inconsistently that it wasn't a sure method for measuring time either.

Azkaban definitely set the bar low.

"Even so, if you were a muggle I don't think you would have served a day in prison. It's a war crime to enlist children, and at barely—if even—sixteen when you took the mark you would have been given all the protections of a child in that situation."

Hermione was watching Draco as he digested this information. He sat in such an aloof position but with a hardness that suggested it was entirely forced. He was a bit skinnier than Hermione would have liked to see but his overall muscle loss was minimal.

 _Good, that will be one less thing to worry about._

"So you did it out of some misguided muggle based sense of fairness. What about Potter?"

Hermione wasn't really sure how she should answer that. Truthfully Harry had been happy to leave Draco in prison for a decade after all he had done and been part of. It was Hermione who had refused to accept that sending a child to prison for a war he couldn't say no to be in anyway acceptable.

"He'll probably tell you that he did it because of your mother, but it's more than that. She convinced him to assume the proper title of Lord Potter, being the last of his house, and to take on the Black title as well thanks to Sirius. She's helped guide him a lot in the process. She's not what he would have expected but she's taken to mothering him and after the war it was exactly what they both needed."

Hermione felt terrible admitting the last part because the result was instant: the look of betrayal on Draco's face, as he learned that not only had Potter kept his mother from visiting him but that his mother had stepped in for Potter _in loco parentis,_ was too much.

"Draco, she never once stopped worrying about you. She's lived her life very much in preparation for the day you were given back yours. She's in France now, safe and waiting, while you get better and we challenge the parole stipulations that prevent you from seeing her. She's never stopped missing you."

Even as Hermione said it though she could imagine how hard it would be for Draco to face his mother any time soon, knowing what he did and having been through what he had.

"Please don't hate Harry. He really did just want to protect her. He would never consciously steal someone's mother, having never had one of his own. But they helped each other get by, and she helped me convince Harry that you didn't deserve to be in Azkaban at all," said Hermione, suddenly letting out a deep exhale.

"I don't think he realized how abhorrent the conditions of the prison were until he saw you. It hurt him so much more to realize just how deprived you had been, despite everything we'd been told had been done to make Azkaban more humane."

Draco nodded softly, more to assuage Granger's guilt than to agree with anything she had said. It would take time for him to come to terms with what had changed and what had happened to him, but it seems Granger had been his champion on the outside from the offset so he wouldn't blame her.

"It's about half past four now. I'll come by in a few hours with some breakfast for you, okay? Then we'll start figuring out the next few days," and with that Granger squeezed his forearm arm lightly and took her leave.

 _Alone again._

Draco looked around the room once more, looking for the human touches that differentiated it from the stone cell he had inhabited just the day before. Books, some he knew and others he did not; a well-worn blanket at the foot of the bed, for just in case; a vase of flowers, with apple blossoms and yarrow, on the desk.

His bundle still in hand, Draco laid back on the bed and tried to quell his anxiety. _Breathe in, breathe out_. The softness of the bed though was alien and soon the anxiety redoubled with the sensation of sinking into the bed deeper becoming unbearable. Draco sat back up and pulled the spare blanket with him, taking it over to the chaise by the window.

He rolled his eyes when he saw someone—definitely Granger—had humorously set out _Crime and Punishment_ for him to find. Putting the book on the desk, he wrapped up under the worn throw blanket, his bundle tucked in safely, and turned towards the window.

He fell asleep, dreaming of nothing but the feeling of being frozen, aching and alone, and woke back up suddenly a few short hours later, pale sunlight shining on his face.

A look around the room revealed a clock beside the bathroom, showing Draco had only slept three hours. He unwound from the ball he had subconsciously rolled into and quietly took apart his bundle.

Remnants of his broken wand, his passport which had been cut in half vertically, and untouched candies were wrapped up in the cloak he had worn in to Azkaban but carried out.

The galleons he'd been carrying and his gold watch were unsurprisingly absent.

He set it all on his desk, to be acknowledged properly later. Now, though, Draco had access to a shower and hot water and as much time as he wanted to enjoy it. The bath Granger had pointed out the night before was well laid out, with both a walk in shower and a deep soaking tub.

When Draco had stripped out of his Azkaban uniform and into the stream of hot water, something inside of him broke.

He cried for the first time in a long time for all the time he had lost. He cried for his Mother, who he loved and hated now more than ever before. She had brought about his rescue but she had left him so alone for so long.

He cried for Granger with her soft touches and Potter with his big house, opened for Draco, and then he cried because feeling bad for them just made him feel even worse.

When Draco left the shower, he felt clean for the first time in three years, three months and twelve days.


	4. Chapter 4

… _And if the wizard in question is petitioned for in three years time and those conditions are met and he receives early release, the following terms of parole are to be upheld:  
_

 _The wizard must follow all laws of Wizarding Britain and maintain the peace;_

 _The wizard must remain within Wizarding Britain at all times;_

 _The wizard will be monitored through a Trace on his wand;_

 _The wizard will not consume any recreational, mind-altering potions;_

 _The wizard will repay society by;_

 _(a)Financial restitution_

 _(b)Community service_

 _The wizard will submit himself to by-weekly rehabilitation sessions;_

 _The wizard will receive no independent financial status during his two years under sponsorship;_

 _The wizard will have no access to any family wealth;_

 _The wizard cannot associate with any Death Eaters, or anyone associated with Death Eaters;_

 _The wizard will have no access to:_

 _(a)Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _(b)St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

 _(c)Azkaban Prison_

 _(d)The Ministry for Magic (without an appointment)_

 _The wizard cannot reapply for his Apparation license_

 _And if the wizard is found to have broken the conditions of his parole, he will be returned to Azkaban prison to resume his sentence, as well as any additional time necessary based on the severity of the infraction._

Thinking back on it now, Draco wondered why his lawyers hadn't challenged some of the more ridiculous conditions.

 _No access to St. Mungo's? So what, I'm to die in the streets?_

Clearly the constitutionality of the conditions – or the complete lack thereof – was overshadowed by the unlikelihood that Draco would have use for them. Granger had said they were challenging some of them, so hopefully Draco wouldn't find himself dying on the streets of London any time soon, but still.

 _Can this just be over already?_

Draco winced as another rib cracked and slipped into place, guided magically by the decrepit looking old healer Potter had walked in earlier that day, a man who immediately softened in his features and even spoke jovially after Draco answered his questions about Azkaban conditions with heavy sarcasm and a bit of dry wit.

"Well now, that's the end of that. Drink this when I leave and again two hours later and you'll be good as new by bedtime."

Draco nodded as yet another potion to fix his broken body was put on the bedside table, between the VitaMix and muscle replenishers.

"Until then, keep that wrist wrapped and jogging to a minimal," joked the healer.

Draco could only nod. The healer then went on to wave his wand, sending a blue light to Draco's stomach, not for the first time, and nodding at the results. Draco just sat there, silent, sloshing around the disgusting mixture he was forced to keep in his mouth for the past half an hour.

"Yes, yes… Almost time to spit that out. It's uncomfortable, I know, but your teeth are better off for it."

Draco nodded again, although his patience was wearing a bit thin. He'd been living with Potter for only one full day and already he'd been made to feel pathetic and broken, even if the goal was the opposite.

"Okay, spit."

Draco took the cup offered to him and spat the thick, disgusting pink slime out of his mouth. He traded it with the healer, who handed him a glass of water to rinse his mouth out with. Draco took it and walked to the washroom, gargling the nasty taste out of his mouth.

Inspecting his teeth revealed the damage and discoloration from years in prison were fixed, even the top left tooth that was chipped a year ago had mended itself. Better though was that gargling the cold water hadn't hurt at all. No more sensitive teeth.

"So I spoke with Mr. Potter on my way in and he said that between you and Ms. Granger, any potions you need can be made here, so I wrote a small list. I also trust that between the three of you, you can remember to take them on schedule. Do you have any questions?"

"How much do Potter and Granger know about what happened to me?" Draco asked immediately. He would prefer the answer be little to nothing.

"Only as much as they could see and guess. Your potion regime is pretty standard post-incarceration fare, between rebuilding your muscle and the like and making sure you didn't catch anything more problematic. Why, do you not want them to?"

Draco nodded, and the healer accepted immediately.

"Whatever brings you solace. Take care, Mr. Malfoy. I'm easy enough to get a hold of if something goes wrong."

The doctor packed up his bag and showed himself out, leaving Draco to resume his spot on the bed and examining the myriad potions waiting for him. Regrowing muscles, patching broken bones and a sprained wrist that were rebroken in order to set, bruise paste for a stubborn welt on his leg that refused to go away, sleeping drought to correct his sleep cycles, six different vials of VitaMix to address several deficiencies, and all of this after Draco had already consumed damn near a vat of different things to make sure he didn't have anything shameful in him like tapeworms, cholera, malaria or something else equally awful like scurvy.

On the bright side, the healer had managed to magic away most of the damage to Draco's back and legs, which coupled with the dreamless sleep meant that Draco might get to sleep in his actual bed instead of on the chaise by the window.

Draco hadn't been alone yet two minutes when a sudden knock took him out of his thoughts. Granger waited a minute before letting herself in, carrying a garment bag over one shoulder and a half dozen other bags in her spare hand.

"Oh, Healer Levi is already gone? That's a shame, he was going to leave me a vial of his tooth repair potion. It's really quite impressive and I've yet to examine it."

Draco couldn't see what was impressive about it at all, having grown up being told to take a potion because it will fix everything and coming to accept that, but maybe the muggle-born was still struggling to accept that.

"So I may have gotten everything on your list and then some, just in case. I also took the liberty of adding some muggle clothes in case you trip and hit your head."

Draco snorted but said nothing more than that.

He expected it would be difficult to get over a lifetime of in-bred aversions but even without a proper protocol for how to treat someone who springs you out of prison, he could guess not degrading her heritage would be a start.

 _Bet Father's thrashing in his prison cell as we speak._

Draco followed her in, inspecting what she had grabbed for him. All he had put on the list she'd asked for was pants, shirts, underthings, and a pair of shoes and when she walked in with so few bags he figured that was what he got. He was going to be living here for two years and unable to earn a single cent for himself, so he wasn't about to burn out their charity early.

Clearly she had shrunk most of it down and only carried around two or three bags for posterity's sake.

"You've got everything a man could need and then some, and of course once you're more comfortable we'll head out and you can expand on this," Hermione said, examining her work for any gaps. Seeing none, she turned and looked at Draco, who had an indescribable expression.

"What?"

He coughed into his hand before gesturing around.

"Don't you think you might have overdone it there, Granger?"

She smiled softly and shrugged, turning back to the fruits of her labor and seeing nothing wrong with it.

"You may or may not use any or all of it, and if two years from now you leave this all behind and never come back then some charity is going to be extremely lucky."

Draco rolled his eyes and stepped out of the closet, Granger following him.

"And since you brought it up, I don't expect you to start at it right away but someday I hope you might consider calling me by my actual name. I'm rather a fan of it."

Draco smirked at that, not remembering once in their shared childhood her ever defending her mouthful for a first name. He also couldn't imagine the same thirteen year old girl who broke his nose asking him to refer to her more personally.

"Now, I'm off to make some tea. Join me?"

Draco lost his smirk at the offer, truly torn. He and Granger and Potter had celebrated his release last night with a very simple soup, to go easy on Draco's stomach until the doctor could see him, but otherwise Draco had stayed in his room. He had showered twice and bathed once, but with his 36 or so hours of freedom so far he hadn't done much else.

"It's just tea, Draco. Or it can be wine. Whatever stops you from letting this room become your new prison."

And with that, she left the room and Draco to his decision.

 _Bloody witch! How can someone go from being so god damn agreeable and in an instant be such an infuriating, know-it-all, insufferable witch..._

Still grumbling, Draco grabbed the dilute skelegrow potion off the nightstand and left the room, following her.

* * *

Author's note: Thank you all for reading this! I really never anticipated having more than three or four readers on my first foray back into fiction writing and your support has been overwhelming and amazing :) the next two chapters are pretty plot heavy but then there's room for some fluff/good feels, so if there are any healing!Draco tropes you want to see, drop me a note (on here or tumblr) and maybe they'll get in.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days in the Potter-Granger-Malfoy abode were very, very uncomfortable.

Some days Draco tried really hard to not hate the situation he found himself in, intellectually understanding it was better than the alternative but emotionally handling it like a toddler.

Hermione dealt with him best in his moody, depressive, rage filled episodes. She would never admit it to anyone but Harry had given her more than enough practice growing up, so she was patient and usually prepared. When she couldn't deal, she gave Draco space and tried again when she could.

It wasn't so bad when less than 48 hours after leaving the wizards prison that Harry said Draco's hair looked like his fathers.

Draco internalized his rage and rather than taking scissors to Harry's face, he took them to his less-than-luscious Lucius-esque locks. His hair was cut shorter than he'd ever had it in his life, and he planned to have it cut shorter yet whenever he got around to facing the outside world and visiting a barber.

They even survived when Draco make a snide remark about the Weasley's, which bothered Harry so much more than it did Hermione because while she and Ron had made up and their friendship survived, he and Ginny were still very much avoiding each other and the whole thing made visits to the Burrow very uncomfortable.

Harry Potter wasn't the one recovering from untold horrors though, and he was never given guidelines. He really should have been.

It didn't help that neither he nor Draco could manage to talk to each other without Hermione's help for more than the amount of time it took for tea to steep. Eye contact was minimal and often turned to glares because Draco felt more comfortable in the old default.

Harry, equally prone to sullen glares and uncomfortable silences, had a disproportionate amount of power though in this weird dynamic they found themselves in and neither knew how to handle that.

Which made sitting together at the breakfast nook after Hermione left for an appointment half way through the meal rather tense.

Draco nibbled at his toast quietly, happy that whatever the pink concoction the healer had him take before had made solid foods manageable. It also made it so he could enjoy a hot tea in the morning and a cold strawberry sorbet after dinner, so he made a small note to himself to send an overdue thank you to the healer – his mother would kill him otherwise – and perhaps an update on his condition like a reasonable adult.

"I'm going to see your mother today. Do you want to send a note along or something?" Harry asked, his face buried in the Daily Prophet to avoid making contact with Draco.

It was probably wasn't the worst thing he could have asked, but saying it in a tone equating such a complex issue with grabbing milk on the way home made up for it.

Draco's magic reacted before he did, flaring out and whipping the air around the pair of them. Harry lowered his paper and looked at the usually morose blond to see his pale face flushed red, his jaw dropped and his normally ice like grey eyes burning with hatred.

"No mother of your own so you cling to mine like a drowning child? Pathetic."

For a moment, Harry was stunned but his face flushed and he snapped back almost immediately.

"Don't be such a petulant fucking child, I was offering to bring a note along – something you haven't bothered to write to her yet, I've noticed – but I can see you're too fucked up to put quill to parchment."

"I must definitely be too fucked up if she's turned to an orphaned half-blood whose greatest achievement was not dying twice for good company," sneered Draco, emphasizing each word even as they cut him up more than he would have expected before saying them.

"Explains why she's still in France then and not here."

Draco couldn't breathe. The room was eerily silent, and then Draco snapped.

His magic whipped forward and in an instant the nook they had been eating breakfast off of was no more; not splintered it into several chunks, but shattered like glass. Where a small table once stood was now pile of wood shards and dust. Draco wasn't sure magic could ever put it back quite right, but he wasn't thinking that at the time.

He was terrified, and he was ashamed.

Without a word he turned and fled to his room. Having not yet replaced his wand, all he could do was slam his door and hope Potter could take a hint. Barricading himself in the washroom, he collapsed against the door and hung his head against his knees, unable to control his breathing.

His knees were drenched with tears he couldn't stop before he was able to catch his breath, hiccupping as his body shook and beads of sweat collected at the nape of his neck. He pulled at his badly chopped hair, tugging some of it out at the roots, shaking violently.

 _They're going to send me back. They're going to send me back to rot and it's all my fault. Stupid fucking Potter…_

Harry may have triggered Draco's collapse but he didn't blow up the table. Accidental magic was embarrassing enough but volatile, violent magic?

 _May as well have pissed myself to make my point._

Harry didn't follow Draco immediately, stilled by the aftermath of their argument. He sure didn't blame Draco for what happened, wincing over what he said as he replayed the encounter in his mind.

Walking on eggshells for days was bound to blow up in their faces.

 _Hermione's gonna kill me when she sees this. Then bring me back and kill me again when she figures out how it happened._

Hesitantly, Harry climbed the staircase and approached Draco's room. He couldn't force himself to walk in and engage Draco in conversation the way Hermione did. She was so worried he would shrink into himself to replace the prison walls with some in his head that she refused to give him the time to do so.

Harry had more or less put the cage together for him.

Ashamed, Harry knocked. He couldn't hear movement but he had no doubt Draco was on the other side, listening, refusing to give him entry. After the horrible things he said, Harry didn't blame him. He hated himself a little too.

Inside the bathroom, Draco waited with baited breath. He didn't know if he could pretend to keep it together in front of Potter and losing it again was not an option. His eyes were clamped tightly, a steady stream of tears sliding down his cheeks as he waited for his absolution.

None came.

Potter stopped knocking and left, Draco counting his steps as they faded down the hallway. Silence. Then a loud crack erupted, and Draco guessed that Potter was off to see his mother, like he originally planned, while Draco couldn't even mop himself up off of the bathroom floor.

 _No wonder she's still in France and not here._


	6. Chapter 6

Needing a few moments to compose himself, Harry Apparated not to the foyer or the front door but to the edge of the French countryside estate Narcissa Malfoy née Black inhabited. It, as well as most of the old Black family estates, had been inherited by Harry through Sirius. Knowing that he could use that wealth to provide for his family, which Narcissa had steadfast become following her trial, made Harry wonder if Sirius would be proud or peeved.

 _Definitely peeved._

Between Narcissa strength of will and Kreacher's dedication to the task, the old manor was quickly restored to a new glory far surpassing itself. The three minute walk to the front entrance helped Harry still his nerves, his shame overwhelming any anger he had earlier, but he was absolutely dreading telling Narcissa what had happened. She had seemed so lost without her son, and this was how Harry _so-called_ helped.

Molly Weasley had always been kind to Harry as he grew up, including him in her family: he had nine Weasley jumpers to attest to her kind heart. But Narcissa Malfoy didn't just let him in, she took him in and took care of him the way no adult really had before. She gave him guidance, she passed on what she thought was important knowledge, and when he made the formal appeal for the rights as Head of the Potter and Black houses, she told him just how proud she was of him.

Even Sirius, for all that he had done for Harry, couldn't compare. Their brief time together never reached the same depths, and all the while the ghosts of Harry's past tinted their relationship. Harry would always be the boy who lived to Sirius, because he was the only one of the Potters that Sirius loved so dearly who did.

He had never really had someone cherish him like Narcissa had.

And all of this from a woman who lost her husband and son to a war she wanted so little to do with. All of this for a boy who she could have been killed for protecting.

Harry tried to shake the thoughts away but they lingered. He had for weeks convinced himself that nothing would change when Draco was released, or if it did it would be for the better because Narcissa would visit London more often. But Draco's face, blanched and terrified, haunted Harry and he knew Narcissa wouldn't let anyone hurt her son.

Not even Harry. Her great capacity for love had a limit and Draco was it.

With his spirits low, Harry entered through the front entrance and immediately felt the drop in temperature. Outside it was a gorgeous late August afternoon that bordered on sweltering, but inside it was cool and temperate. With the gardens in full bloom, Harry guessed Narcissa would be hosting them in the solarium and found his way there without spotting Kreacher once.

Narcissa was seated when Harry arrived, looking over her shoulder and through the glass walls to her beautiful garden. Her long golden hair was in curls that pooled around her shoulders, her face unreadable. Harry's heart broke a little at the sight of her, not sure she would want to see him much after today.

"Harry dear," exclaimed Narcissa with a pleased tone when she noticed him from the corner of her eye. She stood and kissed Harry's cheek, a gesture he still wasn't entirely used to from either the Malfoy matriarch or from Hermione, and looked him up and down. She nodded, deciding he looked well enough, and resumed her seat.

"I told Kreacher you would likely eat before joining us this morning but he insisted. I think he misses you."

Harry snorted at the fresh fruit, pastries and coffee on display, knowing Kreacher might miss him but that he was much happier with Narcissa than he would ever be with Hermione. Harry did pour himself a glass of coffee, silently asking Narcissa if she would like one as well. She had slowly been instilling proper manners in him and while the idea rankled him at first, her efforts were touching and complying was easy enough.

"How is Draco doing? Is he well?"

Harry winced and looked down at his lap, to ashamed to look up. He started by describing Draco's first days in the house, how Hermione was trying to stop Draco from hiding within himself because she read books about how that happens after lengthy incarcerations, some of the potions he noticed Draco had been given by the healer, how he massacred his hair after something stupid Harry said.

Narcissa nodded thoughtfully throughout, smiling at some parts and scowling at others. It made the confession Harry was building himself up to make so much more difficult.

"Harry, what aren't you telling me?" Narcissa asked, no nonsense, after Harry dropped off mid-sentence, unable to finish.

And like that the floodgates broke. Harry confessed how tense the house had been, in particular between Harry and Draco. He prefaced with Draco's snide remarks about the Weasley's and how they continued to bother Harry, then rushed right in to the fight they'd had just before Harry left. He cringed as he forced out the horrible things he had said about Draco not writing and almost didn't mention the violent burst of magic that destroyed the poor table but by this point the confession was just pouring out of him and his fear with it.

Finally he managed to stop talking, looking as though he was going to be sick. Narcissa sighed, a low exhale that made Harry wince again.

"You and my son are much better suited to each other than you know."

Harry looked up, torn between insulted and shocked.

"For your information, Harry, it is not easy for me to be here while my son – or should I say one of them – is in London, suffering. I was not there for him when he needed me most, and I expect him to resent me very much for that. I know that I do."

Narcissa took a long, delicate sip from her coffee before continuing.

"He must have been so alone in that frozen purgatory. I imagine it hardened him greatly. It will do him no good if I rush in now, while he has yet to figure out how he feels, and mother him. He must come to terms with what happened to him and decide if he wants me there. In his heart of hearts he knows I will be there the moment he asks, but any sooner and I will only make his recovery harder."

Narcissa wavered at the end of her explanation, but said nothing else. She took another sip of her coffee.

"While I doubt you'll agree with me now, I very much believe you and Hermione will do him a world of good."

Harry wanted to disagree but having been forgiven by Narcissa was enough to strengthen Harry's resolve when it came to Draco.

"I promise I'll be better for him."

Narcissa turned her full attention to Harry and gave such a loving smile that for a moment his breath caught.

"I know Harry. You're family, and family looks out for each other."

Harry stayed well into the afternoon, enjoying Narcissa's company and readying himself for the inevitable apologies he would have to make, to Draco who deserved one and Hermione who would demand one. Kreacher loaded him up with homemade treacle tart and chocolate raspberry gateau ("the young Master Malfoy's favorite.") before taking off. He stopped by the bakery down the lane from their townhouse and grabbed eclairs for Hermione and trudged home.

By the time he arrived at the townhouse, he was feeling much happier. It was when he tried to open the front door and got an overwhelming electric jolt through his body that he figured out Hermione was home and less than happy.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione came home from her optometry appointment and a series of errands to a seemingly empty house. Not hungry enough for lunch quite yet, she figured she would check-in on Draco and then maybe drag him out to the backyard with some books and lemonade.

Her first stop was her bedroom, across the hall from Draco's, where she changed from her sensible corduroys and rose coloured blouse to a light, floral summer dress. Second was her bookcase, where a collection of Pablo Neruda poems was selected for the afternoon's readings. Third was Draco's room.

She let herself into the main room without a knock, absentmindedly flipping through the Neruda collection to find her spot from before, when she heard a sob. She looked up but Draco was nowhere to be seen.

"Draco?"

The struggled breathing and sobs disappeared, but Hermione was able to guess where Draco was hidden. She set her book down on his desk before walking to the washroom door and setting her hand on the handle.

"What happened?" Hermione asked in a low, steady voice, unsure how Draco could have so completely collapsed between breakfast and now. He gave no reply. She tried to unlock the door but while the handle turned, the entrance remained barred.

 _Somehow he's managed to wandlessly – and likely wordlessly – ward the door against anyone entering. What could have possibly happened to trigger him so badly?_

"Draco, please let me in," Hermione begged, her voice breaking in the middle. She slid down the door, collapsing on her knees. She could feel the heat of his body on one side as she leaned against the other. She tried to hear his breathing, hoping it could calm her down, when she realized he might be doing the same on the other side.

Minutes melted by in silence but Hermione waited.

"I could have killed him Granger. Not even figuratively, but actually."

Hermione almost missed the struggled confession and had no clue what he meant by it. She could just imagine what had transpired between Draco and Harry, but if they had come to blows she should imagine Harry would at least be outside the door trying to fix things in the aftermath.

 _Coward._

"Who, Harry? Whatever happened, he probably deserved it," she joked, hoping levity could convince the Slytherin to at least open the door so they could talk face-to-face.

He did open the door a moment later, he but was not smiling.

He was red in the face, having obviously lost control and yet to regain it, and now was standing over her and directing his anger at her.

"I don't have it in me for your bullshit jokes Granger! I nearly destroyed Potter and it was completely out of my control. That bastard mentioned Mother and I just lost it! Like a fucking child!"

Hermione's heart dropped as he yelled at her, breaking for him and the pain visible on his face. She climbed up to her feet walked over to him, wrapped her arms around his centre and holding tightly.

He froze, switching instantly from angry to fearful.

Draco Malfoy had been a loved child, never once abused by his father and unabashedly adored by his mother, but this was something else entirely. Even setting aside Granger's blood and how that would have immediately disqualified her from touching him once upon a time, and even forgetting the animosity between them throughout their shared childhood, no one had ever hugged Draco in such a way that was meant to soak up his pain.

He shook slightly, unsettled by the feeling of being protected by Granger, but did not move.

"Everything is going to be fine, Draco," she promised, her face tucked into his shirt. She squeezed a little tighter, bothered by how easily she could count his ribs but setting that realization aside for more pressing problems.

"I don't know what happened between you and Harry but nothing is irreparable. I won't let anything happen to you, even if it's you I have to protect you from."

Still, Draco couldn't bring himself to raise his arms.

"Growing up, you were a right arse but you weren't a bad person. I refuse to let this backward society break you in a childish fit of fair weather _justice_ ," Hermione continued, her voice dripping with scorn. "I don't care what happened during the War, it's done now and—"

"Shut up, Granger."

Draco finally raised his arms and wrapped them around Hermione, silencing her. They stood like that, wrapped in each others arms and silent, for several minutes. He focused on the sound and feel of her breathing, inhaling the smell of her shampoo _–_ rosemary and peppermint, and something else _–_ and began to unwind.

It was Draco's stomach that growled loudly first.

Hermione laughed and untangled herself from Draco, turning to his desk to get her book while he took a moment to rub away any lingering emotion from his face.

"You've been here almost a week and have yet to leave the house. I don't know if it's too soon or not but would you like to get an ice cream with me? It's gorgeous out and we can go to the muggle shop down the lane, no one we know will be there."

Draco considered the proposal as he slipped into his closet and found a new, unwrinkled shirt.

"Sure, Hermione."

He said her name with deliberate care, his way of thanking her for what she did. In return she smiled to him when he exited his closet, fresh looking and in control of himself, and went back to her room to put her book away.

. . . . .

Hermione and Draco returned from the ice cream parlour with their treats in hand, not wanting to push the boundaries of Draco's comfort zone too far on his first outing, to find Harry sitting on the front step with what looked like desserts collapsing under the summer sun beside him.

" _Harry James Potter_!" Hermione screeched as soon as she spotted him.

"I'm sorry!" Harry yelped immediately, raising his hands in defence as the enraged witch stomped in his direction. She smacked his arm hard with the hand that wasn't carrying ice cream before looking down at the melting pastries at his feet.

"You did not buy me eclairs to try and worm out of this, did you?" Her tone was accusatory enough that he doubted she would believe him when he denied it.

"Like a half dozen eclairs can make up for destroying the breakfast nook," Harry said, adding a soft snort before continuing, "I went to visit Narcissa and was sent back with treats for everyone, even—"

"You destroyed the breakfast nook?!" Hermione screeched, turning her head around to face Draco, who had been silently and innocently licking at his ice cream while Potter was harassed by his best friend. _And maybe more? I should look up that bonding ritual they did._

"Potter started it."

Hermione turned back on Harry, her face red, and let out a frustrated yell. Rather than say anything more, she flourished her wand and whipped the front door open, a feat Harry could not accomplish thanks to the curse Hermione had left waiting for Harry on all the entrances. As she disappeared into the townhouse to inspect the damage, Harry and Draco were left outside, alone once again.

"You didn't tell Hermione what had happened?" Harry asked, remembering his promise to Narcissa.

"I expected you would reassemble the nook or at least temporary transfigure something until it could be replaced without her knowing. Never thought you would just leave the evidence there for her to find," Draco said, despite knowing full well Harry had left immediately after their argument.

"Figured you would owe me one," he added.

Harry smirked, accepting the snakes' motives, and nodded. Draco was happy letting Potter think he was trying to get ahead in their little contest while Hermione focused on his fear of almost killing Potter. As long as neither guessed how grateful he was just to still be staying with them, he'd be fine.

"Well I think I owe you more than once after earlier. I spoke with your mum, she—

"Potter, you might be new to having a mother but I've known mine my whole life. I understand why she isn't here."

Draco said no more, so Harry left it at that. He wasn't sure if Draco really did know why Narcissa was away in France, waiting for permission to see her son, but he didn't want to put his foot in his mouth again so he picked up the desserts and gestured for Draco to follow him into the house.

He also doubted that Draco was fine with his relationship with Narcissa, but that was a talk to have later.

"She misses you," was all he said.

"I know," replied Draco.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco really was a child.

When the healer had come by the week prior, he fixed everything he could and left notes for everything he couldn't, Draco's deteriorating eyesight among them. He pitched a fit every time it was mentioned that he would need reading glasses at the very least, claiming he would rather lose his eyesight than look anything more like Potter.

That Harry had switched to contacts shortly after Hogwarts meant very little in the overall argument.

So when it came to getting Draco's reading glasses bright and early, Harry Potter was nowhere to be found for support. Hermione was, but then again she always was.

She consoled him by offering to take him to Ollivander's first, thinking magic and a new wand could heal the wounds of failing eyesight but she was wrong. At first Draco tried to barter that a wand would be the only errand they would run that morning, but when it came to actually dressing and leaving the house he had reversed his position entirely.

"You're wearing chinos," said Hermione, unable to phrase the dumbstruck statement into a proper question. She was momentarily dazed by how good looking Draco was in his crisp blue linen button up, paired with cropped beige chinos and white leather loafers.

 _Draco's put that store mannequin to shame._

Hermione shook her head, banishing the wholly inappropriate thoughts from her mind, before looking him over once more to make sure nothing was amiss.

"I've decided I would rather only get glasses today. With you as a roommate, reading isn't exactly going anywhere, so getting proper lenses to dispel the headaches would be the wiser plan of action."

Hermione registered what he was saying but found herself immobile. Draco, despite being malnourished and having a long recovery ahead of him, could apparently make anything from any world look good. Perhaps it was his smug personality.

Hermione mulled that over.

"I'm glad you've come to see reason on the glasses. As it is, I've already booked you an appointment with an optometrist – my own, in fact – for later this morning. Ollivander is expecting us in twenty minutes though, so let's be off."

If she hadn't still been mesmerized by how the cuff of his shirt wrapped around his forearms and – _is that another tattoo?!—_ she would have missed how his body tensed up at the mention of the magical wand maker's name.

"Hermione," Draco said, using her name if only to throw her off, "he's not going to make me a wand. He was held captive in my house and tortured, not just by me and the other Death Eaters but by the Dark Lord himself."

Hermione finally tore her eyes away from Draco's arm and the hint of ink peeking out and turned to the sleeves of her own dress, picking away at some invisible speck of lint.

"I'll have you know that I spoke with Mr. Ollivander about what happened while he was held in captivity. Speaking about the atrocities you endure is very good for your mental health," she added, in a not so subtle hinting tone, "He never blamed you. In fact, he's very aware of who I am bringing by to get a wand this morning."

Hermione suspected it was because Draco had unwittingly been the master of the Elder Wand for several months, but she would take what she could get.

"I won't go."

Hermione sighed.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, don't start with me! This is not an argument we're having with fifteen minutes until our appointment. Garrick Ollivander is a reasonable man who has had three and a half years to move on from the War and one way in which he is choosing to do so is finding you a new wand. Now move your petulant arse out the door and let's go."

Hermione opened the door and waited, her tone and unhappy stare reminiscent of Narcissa Malfoy's. Unwilling to see what consequences would come from further protest, Draco shuffled past her, mumbling complaints under his breath.

Draco expected the day to be similar to ripping away a leech but Hermione Granger had no care for his discomfort as she walked into her favorite nearby coffee shop and ordered two iced coffees. Once bearing drinks, she guided him to the adjacent alley and the two Apparated to one similar across the city, connecting to Ollivander's wand shop.

Draco closed his eyes, chanting in his head to be brave, but couldn't force himself to put one foot in front of the other. Hermione, waiting for him to move, noticed his hesitance.

"Come along Draco, just imagine how much happier you'll be once this is done."

She slid her arm into the crook of his and light tugged, guiding him to the shop and not letting go until they passed through the door and the chime of the bell summoned the old keeper.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said in his usual, mystical drawl.

"I will admit, I was not sure you would show up this morning."

Draco turned and faced Hermione, who had another facial expression reminiscent of Narcissa Malfoy: thinly veiled disdain. Draco wondered if she had left something out from her previous encounters with the old wizard or if she was insulted on Draco's behalf for the dig at his expense.

Draco secretly relished in the possibility it was the latter.

"No matter, come along. We'll get your new measurements and get started."

Ollivander immediately tugged three boxes from shelves hidden in the further recesses of the store before the magical measuring tape finished prodding and pestering Draco. He gave each the required swish but each one was removed quickly by a increasingly more interested Ollivander.

He tried two more, both plucked from the same shelf, with equally poor results.

"Perhaps not then..?" he muttered to himself, taking off in the other direction to perhaps try something else.

Ollivander had several more failed attempts, which disheartened Draco, who in a flash of uncertainty thought _perhaps after what I've done with magic, I'm no longer meant to use it._

That thought was forgotten when Ollivander handed him the next wand.

Draco could feel something in him – his magic, perhaps – rejoice and purr as the wand touched his fingers. He gave it a slight swish and watched a string of flowers pour out and onto the ground.

Hermione gave him a smirk out of the guilty pleasure of being right and he blushed ever so slightly.

"Well, now! Twelve inches, willow with a dragon heartstring, reasonably taut; this is an unusual combination, but I suppose Mr. Malfoy that you have had an unusual life. Oh yes, this wand will serve you very well. Perhaps more so, I suspect, than the springy Hawthorn you had before."

Draco listened and nodded, memorizing the detail of his new wand already. Hermione's smirk melted to a soft smile as she watched wizard and wand become acquainted, and dug out Galleons to cover the cost.

"No, Miss Granger, I do not think that will be necessary."

Draco and Hermione looked at up Ollivander, who had been watching Draco closely.

"Unlike some, I do not forget what you and your friends accomplished – and what you gave up – to save our world from war. Your money is no good here Ms. Granger. Mr. Malfoy, I do hope you enjoy the wand. Good day to you both."

And with that, the pair were ushered into the street by a suddenly bashful Ollivander. Not wanting to kick a gift Hippogriff in the mouth, Hermione tucked the galleons back into her bag and made a note to send him a thank you note later before turning to face Draco.

"Well, time for your glasses."

And suddenly Draco's good mood poured out of him and he started muttering mutinously under his breath as Hermione led the way down the alley.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Visit (Part One)

Hermione _really did_ mean to celebrate the one week Draco had spent living with her and Harry. She had even ordered a cake from the bakery up the lane with the words "one down, 103 to go".

She couldn't have predicted that her two week vacation would be interrupted though by an attack on the wards she had helped set up on a Belgium museum in a would-be theft attempt. So she spent Tuesday in Belgium, reworking the wards and releasing the trapped thief into the custody of local authorities, the one week anniversary forgotten.

So unfortunately the anniversary was moved to Wednesday, when Hermione had other plans.

Draco entered the kitchen wearing dark blue jeans and a deep grey Henley shirt that made Hermione secretly swoon. She never would have invested so heavily in muggle attire for Draco if she had known how good looking he would be in it or how she would react every time he entered the room wearing something else.

Draco, however, was oblivious to the effect he was having on the witch. He took to the muggle clothes much faster than he would have ever expected, pleased by the quality fabrics and the efficacy of the designs. No more dragging lose sleeves through potions or dirty robes dragging along clean carpets for this wizard.

"You're making a lot," Draco said, noticing the flurry of activity in the kitchen. Hermione was chopping up a salad while two others chilled in the icebox; desserts lined the counter top and countless sides, including garlic potatoes to stuffed peppers, filled every inch of the table and newly replaced breakfast nook.

"Yes, well, we're having a barbecue tonight." Hermione replied crisply, peeking into the sink where she had racks of ribs, chicken and salmon, spiced and glazed, floating one on top of the other and waiting to be brought to the grill outside.

"All of this for three people?" Harry asked, entering the room and sizing up the veritable feast in front of him.

"Actually, no." Hermione admitted, setting her knife down. With both boys in the kitchen and their guest already five minutes late, she figured now was as good a time as any to spill. Besides, she still needed to change.

"Granger, who is coming over?" Draco demanded, nervous and a little irritated he wasn't given any heads up. His mood swings had softened in their severity and frequency but it helped that he only had two people to yell at and only so much to yell about. He was finally starting to feel comfortable, but knowing Granger, that just meant he was ready for the next step in the 26 step recovery program laid out in her endlessly working head.

"Ron is coming over," Hermione said to two very loud reactions. Harry cheered, happy his friend was stopping by, while Draco whined loudly.

"See? This is why I didn't tell either of you! You're far too happy about this Harry and don't pretend it isn't in part because Draco's taking it badly."

She glared at both, neither denying her accusations.

"Ron will be here any minute now and I invited him over so be good, both of you. Especially you, Draco, he's coming with something for you." Before she could stand further interrogation, Hermione removed her apron, set it on the appropriate hook, and fled to the second floor.

Harry didn't have the chance to promise Draco he would behave himself before Ron entered the room, having let himself in by floo knowing he was expected and already late, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and a large stack of documents in the other. Harry immediately divested his friend of both and gave him a hug, having not seen him in weeks. Draco, still quite sullen, lifted the bottle for inspection and was surprised to see that it was a quality brand and a decent year. He voiced this amazement to Ron, who laughed and took it in stride.

"Well if I picked it out you know it wouldn't be, so be grateful for small favors."

Nothing Draco had ever said – and he had thrown a lot at the youngest Weasley son – had ever rolled off so easily. Something was different. Something was wrong.

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, walking in wearing a tight dress that entirely distracted Draco from his previous train of thought. It was blue, probably with its own special word because it looked like an expensive shade, but all Draco could think was that it looked really short when she raised her arms to hug Weasley.

"Mione! I have everything you asked for, even had Percy help with the Ministry stuff."

She beamed at him and turned to Draco, gesturing for him to follow her as she lifted the bottle of wine Weasley brought with the bundle of documents and walked out to the patio.

"I had Ron go through old news reports I kept following the war for anything you might find useful," Hermione said, taking a seat and summoning wine glasses with a dozy swish of her wandless hand.

 _That kind of impressive magic should be forbidden in a dress like that._

Draco shook his head, banishing the offensive thought before he could acknowledge it, and looked at the piles in front of him. Small yellow pieces of sticky paper distinguished each folder in front of him, 'Malfoy manor' being the closest to him.

He took it and immediately started riffling through.

"If I remember correctly, they seized your home immediately after the final battle. Once your mother was found cleared of all charges, she was given 24 hours to remove any personal effects and then the manor was closed back up again," Hermione recited from memory.

Draco nodded, seeing reports of items removed from his home, evidence of torture and killing's found in the basement. He shuddered to remember his part in it all but some of this was information he'd already seen.

"I know you were still in London when most of that was being reported, but I figure as you were trying to get to France that you might have been a bit busy."

Draco _had_ tried to get to France, where his family spent several summers of his youth, to apply for political asylum. That was always the family's plan if the war went south; Lucius could only claim Imperious the once, and he had already used it. It was on the night he physically made the dash for the border, his wand having been given a Trace once a warrant for his arrest was issues, that he was assaulted by Aurors hunting any remaining Death Eaters. Draco's wand was snapped quite deliberately in front of him by one Auror, while the other threw him to the ground – dislocating his shoulder – as he arrested him.

"You'll probably never see the inside of the Manor again, but your mum got a lot out with the time she had, and a lot of the antique family stuff she couldn't save was put in Ministry holdings – Percy says it's just sitting there, untouched, and that you could probably petition for most of it back after your parole is served," said Ron, joining the pair at the patio table with a bottle of beer – probably muggle – in hand.

Draco felt uncomfortable with Weasley, having not cursed or insulted him much in the time he was there, and strangely feeling little want to do so.

"There's a lot in here too of what happened after you were arrested and Britain refused to let France give you asylum," continued Hermione, passing over a different folder.

Inside were newspaper clipping of articles he had never gotten to read, most detailing the crimes he was accused of and very few mentioning his age. They criticized, reviled, vilified and degraded him in a series of features, harsh editorials and lengthy courtroom coverage. Draco was disparaged seeing the opinion his own people had of him until Hermione reached over and pointed to a stack sticking out under what he was reading.

"Don't stop until you get through these."

Draco read on and his impression of a wizarding community unified in their hatred for him was shattered. Dozens of letters to the editor and opinion pieces shamed the Ministry for politicizing the trial of a young boy who never should have been part of the war, shamed the Ministry for refusing to let Draco apply for asylum in France or to receive it from a host of other countries that stepped forward and offered, shamed the Ministry for the sham of a trial Draco endured.

He was stunned and strangely touched.


	10. Chapter 10 - The Visit (Part Two)

Draco joined Potter by the grill while Hermione and Ron Weasley walked back and forth from the kitchen, laying out bowls and plates of salads and sides. Summoning them proved to be a disaster when Weasley accidentally summoned a plate of deviled eggs up against the kitchen window.

"Are those two always like that? I thought they'd be really uncomfortable to be around because of post-break up drama. Instead they just make me regular old uncomfortable."

Harry laughed at that, checking on the chicken before closing the grill up and facing Draco.

"I imagine they'll always be like that. They were cruel to each other a lot growing up, not sure how to deal with liking one another and I often got caught in the centre of it, but now they've come to terms with this really weird sibling like relationship. They clash in a lot of ways but they complement each other a lot too."

Draco watched the pair as Ron explained something with wild hand movements and Hermione let out a very unlady like laugh before turning back to Potter.

"It also helps that Ron isn't pining away for her anymore, but my first answer is the one Hermione would demand I give."

. . . . .

Hermione handed the potato salad down to Draco as they all settled in to their seats and began to dig in. The meal was outrageous in size but Hermione argued that with Ron living with George over the shop, they don't get enough quality cooking in them anymore and Hermione was determined to see the pair eat better.

Weasley spoke about the shop a bit, saying they were considering a second location in Hogsmeade but would that be too predictable and maybe they should keep an eye on some foreign markets instead.

The conversation shifted at some point to what their classmates are doing these days; one of Weasley's older brothers, Percy, has a job in the Minister's office; one of the Patil twins was apprenticing at St. Mungo's – where, Draco grumbled, he was still not allowed admission – while the other was abroad studying at a muggle university; Theo Nott, who never took that monsters mark on his arm, was working in Gringott's and he and Hermione ran into each other regularly.

Everyone else had lives.

The conversation went on without much contribution from Draco, who was now sullen and taking it out on the glazed ribs in front of him, which of course Potter grilled perfectly.

"—and now those on the Right are pairing up with a few of the weirdos on the Left. You'll have a hell of a fight," said Weasley.

Draco, hearing politics, perked up.

"What are the two political factions freaking out about nowadays?" Draco asked, trying to hide his pleasure at the change of topic. Hermione, who he hadn't noticed was scowling at Weasley's news, looked at him and her look shifted to one of amusement.

"You, actually. They're unifying to try and fight us on some of your parole conditions," informed Hermione, making Draco's face twitch slightly and causing the brunette to laugh.

. . . . . .

Weasley approached Draco and handed him a beer, drinking from his own and watching as Harry and Hermione cleared the table manually.

"The world's changed a lot since the war. You'll have a lot to catch up on," said the red head conversationally. Draco shrugged, not much caring for how the people they grew up with had moved on with their lives, but Weasley shook his head and continued.

"I don't mean the people. I saw how you perked up when the politics were mentioned, but they're different too. Used to just be the left and the right but Harry's changed things."

Draco said nothing but pondered what he was being told. The left had always called for inclusivity for muggleborns, limitations on blood and dark magic, _yadda yadda_. Everyone else was for traditional values: blood mattered, candles and quills continued to be used, men were the face of the family and women were to be docile, controlled, quiet.

Even Draco saw some faults with the old ways, but the left was never really an option. He never believed as a child that his father was in some way superior to his mother, so he didn't understand why she stayed home and volunteered while he pursued politics. Now, living with Hermione, he was struggling to reconcile his childhood beliefs with the woman who saved him from an unjust prison sentence when no one else would.

He would never admit to her that she's had him questioning his beliefs since the day she withstood torture at his aunt's wand, the day he saw her blood was just as red as his. He spent a good portion of his prison sentence thinking about everything he had been bred to believe and how wrong it had been. But intellectually knowing that was the easy part.

Since moving in with Hermione and Scarhead, he had yet to apologize for calling her a mudblood for all those years or even acknowledge the issue. Hermione sometimes looked at him as though she was waiting for him to say something cruel but he didn't trust himself to say anything right, so he said nothing about it at all.

"He and Hermione both, they've created this kind of grey area. The bond they did was some serious blood magic but they still obviously believe muggleborns and their families belong in the magical world. They want better rights for house elves and werewolves but they have your mother supporting them. They've carved out this political space in the middle of everything that just made sense after the war; not everything the left wants is reasonable and not everything the right wants makes sense any more, and after the war a lot of people our age started thinking that way. But both sides hate them for it, especially since you got mixed in."

Weasley took another long drink from his beer, nodding to Potter as he approached them. Draco followed suit and drank as well, hoping he wouldn't be expected to chip in much. He wanted time to digest the information Weasley had given him.

. . . . .

Hermione summoned the men back to the table after it had been cleared of their dinner and desserts were laid out. Draco joined her immediately, smirking when he saw the chocolate cake she'd had made for him to celebrate one week of not killing each other.

Harry held back, pulling Ron with him.

"I've got to ask something, but you have to promise it stays in the vault."

Ron nodded, looking around to make sure there were no beetles or spy gnomes present, before turning his full attention to his best mate.

"Does Malfoy just naturally look good in everything or is he just cocky enough to pull anything off? It's really not fair that even muggle clothes look fancy on him."

Ron laughed and nodded, having thought something similar earlier, then shrugged.

"It's really not fair," was all he could think to say to appease his irritated looking friend before clapping him on the back and making his way towards the desserts.

. . . . .

"How's Ginny doing lately? She cancelled on lunch with me for the fourth time so I'm guessing she's still a bit put out," Hermione asked, making no pretense of subtlety.

Potter and Weasley both blushed, the former stuffing his face with chocolate pudding to avoid contributing to the conversation.

"Well, Sunday dinner at the Burrow is about as tense as it was after Fred died," Weasley explained, oblivious to Draco's flinch of discomfort. He had been listed as one of the possible killers of the Weasley twin but he had been nowhere in the area when the redhead was killed by a stray hex.

"I figured once I stopped whining about our break up," he continued, gesturing between himself and Hermione, "that things would get better but then Harry and Ginny split and it just got worse."

Ron thought back to Sunday's dinner at the Burrow, discussing the project Hermione had voluntold him to do with his father and Percy, both keen to help. His mother, however, overheard and pitched a true fit, convinced Draco was the one who killed Fred despite his adamant refusal at his trial.

"Mum's always been a bit extreme but Ginny's taken the break-up pretty badly and now they're using each other as crazy sounding boards. She's been going on about how you don't give a rats' for tradition and saying some horrible things about 'Mione and how muggle witches don't understand wizarding values. Makes the rest of us real uncomfortable," he admitted, his voice ending in a whisper of shame as he finished confessing the sins of his sister.

Hermione looked ruffled, but unlikely to kill. Then she snorted and every head turned to her.

"She'll get over it. Can you imagine the Gin at Hogwarts being told she'd be living with her mother, wailing and whining because a man wouldn't marry her?"

Potter and Weasley perked up at that.

"Yeah, can't imagine she would have really much cared before whether or not she would be the next Lady Potter," Weasley joked.

This time it was Potter's turn to snort, looking at Hermione who refused to catch his eye.

"Alas, it seems there will never be another Lady Potter. Someone told me I could take the title and shove it." Harry noted, enjoying the strange look Draco was giving Hermione.

She was blushing furiously.

* * *

Authors note: Can't believe this story has gotten over 10,000 views! So grateful for the wonderful readers and reviewers this story gets. I have a small giveaway happening on tumblr for the people who follow me on there; winner will get a one-shot of their chosen pairing/particulars written up as a thank you for just being outrageously cool readers. Otherwise, there is still one more installment in the Visit and soon Draco will have to face the rest of the world.


	11. Chapter 11 - The Visit (Part Three)

Hermione excused herself to the kitchen to start packaging up some of the leftovers for the Weasley's, calling for Potter's help when she realized just how much she had overcooked, and Draco was once again left alone with Weasley.

 _I really should work on calling them all by their given names, given how determined they are to use mine._

Wea— _Ron_ —coughed and summoned two new beer from the cooler, no walls or windows in his way, and handed one to Draco. For all his complaints against the youngest Weasley boy growing up, Draco appreciated the efforts the man was making now to keep things civilized.

"You're giving me the same look Hermione's been throwing me all night," Ron accused, opening both bottles with a quick flourish of his wand.

Draco shrugged, sipped his drink, and denied nothing.

"To be frank, I've been waiting for one of us to start screaming or throwing things. Gods know Granger made enough food," answered Draco with a feigned drawl, refusing to linger on how foreign it felt now to call Hermione by her surname.

Ron smirked and shrugged, agreeing.

"I'm rough around the edges and I tend to react before I think. I get that, and before now, I didn't have someone to tell me to pull my head out of my – ", he stopped and looked over Draco's shoulder, double checking the witch was still preoccupied in the kitchen only to see her watching the two of them talk. She frowned at Ron when they locked eyes, so he stood and gestured for Draco to follow him as they walked to the far side of the backyard and away from her judgmental stare.

"Bloody hypocrite that one: she drops four arses a day and glares at me if I say it once. Absolutely mental," Ron muttered as they walked.

"Anyway," he continued, turning and deliberately showing Hermione his back, "I was all for leaving you in Azkaban."

 _Well, no reason for him to lie about that._

"It caused a lot of fights and was part of the reason 'Mione and I split. But she made a good argument: it's only justice if it would be the same for anyone else. I'd think things would have been different if it were my family over yours, and I'd hope I wouldn't go to prison for doing whatever it took to protect my mum," Weasley said, his face dark at the idea. He took a very long drink, which Draco mirrored.

"So yeah, I still think it's weird that my two best friends technically married each other – even if they say they didn't – just to spring you out of prison, but I guess I get why. You and I, we were raised in wizarding tradition, as much as you might think Weasley's ignored it all. We didn't. Harry and Hermione don't see a bonding ritual as being all that important compared to letting you rot in Azkaban, which is what has half the Wizarding world up in a panic."

Draco nodded, just imaging the turmoil outside his little bubble. Hermione and Po— _Harry_ —had taken the time away from work to help Draco readjust to life on the outside. Doctors, glasses, a new wand; those were the tangible steps towards recovery. Learning how to sleep in a real bed again, trusting his food, carrying on a full conversation – without crying or screaming or going completely silent – took longer and had fewer milestones to celebrate.

He could still remember how Lucius had returned from Azkaban after Dumbledore died, a shell of a man after only a year behind bards, and was grateful dementors were no longer guarding Azkaban.

Hermione was of course leading the charge in Draco's recovery and resettlement, but after the explosion the previous week, Harry had stopped treating Draco like they were both still twelve and flinging hexes at each other in the halls. Draco was more than happy to give this new world where Malfoy's and Potters and muggleborn witches with too much heart could get along a chance.

He would eventually have to say as much to the Wonder Duo but odds are he would just muck that up, so he was in no hurry.

. . . . .

Hermione joined the two and tried to find out what they'd been discussing but neither would say. It seemed they'd built a tentative friendship though so Hermione wouldn't pry, in case that damaged the delicate balance they had reached.

She walked Ron to the floo, Draco following them as far as the kitchen where Harry was helping himself to seconds of cake and offered Draco a slice, which he accepted. Hermione appreciated it and smiled to Harry, grabbing the shrunken down leftovers for Ron and leading him to the parlour.

"You doing okay?" Ron asked, barely holding back his smile.

"I don't need to know everything, Ron, I just like to."

He chuckled and nodded, not willing to disagree with here, before putting the offered leftovers in his pocket.

"Thank you for today, Ron. The files, everything." Hermione said pointedly, hugging her best friend.

He shirked her arms off, his face tinted more red than usual as he huffed indignantly.

"That's what that look you've been giving me all night was, you and Harry both! You were expecting me to throw a fit!"

Hermione shrugged lightly, her face guilty.

"Bloody hell! You throw a tantrum or two growing up and suddenly you friends walk around you like you're a nutter! I may not be Harry but I can damn well keep my temper in check."

Hermione smirked before telling Ron all about the state of the kitchen nook after Draco and Harry finally snapped and lashed out at each other. She didn't expect him to look so mollified by the revelation, but the hint of smugness in his eye was a little predictable.

Ron considered that for a moment. "That helps. Thanks. Besides, if I were to yell at him, I'd go from sleeping alone in my bed to sleeping alone on my couch when Pansy gets home."

Hermione stifled a laugh at the idea before asking where her Slytherin friend was now.

"Milan. They have one last stop in Paris after that and then she's home for the foreseeable future. Between you telling her about my good behavior and her good mood from Draco being released, I'm very much looking forward to having my girlfriend back in town."

Hermione scrunched her face up, not at all looking forward to hearing the inevitable salacious details at the next girls night, then tilted her head ever so slightly. She hadn't spoken with Draco about any of his old friends from school, despite being friends with them herself now, because he hadn't asked yet.

"Does Draco know you're dating his ex?"

Ron smirked and shook his head.

"No, I thought that might make for a lovely surprise next time we swing over."


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione decided to not tell Draco that they were going to the Ministry to appeal some of his parole conditions until literally the morning of, when two men he didn't know sat at their kitchen table reviewing their arguments.

She was probably right to do that, because within only an hour to get ready there was no time for him to properly freak out. He may have destroyed an old vase in the parlour and cracked a mirror in the hallway while running past as he raged about the situation, but Hermione was right and it killed him that she guessed that much about him.

He showered and dressed quickly – donning proper wizard robes despite the subtle suggestion from Hermione to wear jeans in a not-exactly-subtle protest – and rejoined the group in the kitchen. Harry handed him a coffee, having done so every day since they awkwardly discovered they take theirs the exact same: two milks, no sugar.

Everything was packed up and they were ready to go.

"We've scheduled you an appointment already so you're free to enter the Ministry, but while they would probably rather you enter through the visitor's entrance, we're going to bring you to the Auror's department entrance instead," Hermione explained, evidently proud of her little rebellion in the face of such a stupid stipulation.

Draco nodded, not able to contribute much and nervous that he had no idea what exactly their legal plans were. He had never asked and now he was deeply regretting that, but it was too late to say much. Harry took Draco's mostly finished coffee cup and set it in the sink before Apparating the two of them to the Ministry for Magic.

Draco didn't get a chance to examine the department or Harry's part of it, being whisked away quickly to the lifts and down to level 10. No one said a word, although Draco noticed that outside himself no one seemed particularly nervous. He decided to take comfort in that, although the shifting looks Hermione and Harry sent him from time to time were a bit unnerving.

"Wait, where did your lawyers go?" Draco asked, noticing they were the only three in the lift.

"Given the type of proceeding, we have to self-represent. They were just advising us this morning to make sure we had everything in order. It's archaic, but we're not above using their wonkiest system to win," answered Harry, as Hermione's head bobbed lightly while she drilled herself on particulars.

The lift door snapped opened before Draco could consider panicking and revealed an almost endlessly long hallway packed with people, some wearing the traditional plum robes of the esteemed Wizengamot, others wearing the assorted robes of varied Ministry employees, and others yet apparently there to watch the show.

Draco shifted uncomfortably, the earlier looks suddenly understood.

"Hermione, Harry."

The group was approached by a large, dark skinned man that Draco vaguely recognized. He had been a part of the Order of the Phoenix, but there was something else about him Draco was forgetting. "Minister, thanks for chairing today," Harry said, shaking hands with the man.

 _Ahh, one of the Order's top fighters was made Minister. Swell._

Harry and Hermione talked shop with the Minister for a minute, clearly being well acquainted, before the imposing hulk of a man turned his attention to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm glad to see you're looking so well," he said, looking Draco in the eye. He had no clue how he came up in the conversation he'd been paying very little attention to but caught himself quickly, shaking hands with the Minister and smiling back.

"Thank you, sir."

He figured with his being the reason they were there, it was smarter saying little. Possibly understanding that, Shacklebolt nodded and said his goodbyes before turning and heading off to the courtroom.

"We have maybe five minutes now before the proceedings start," Harry said, turning to Draco.

"Shacklebolt's promised to keep the proceedings in check, so don't get nervous. This won't be anything like last time, not even with the spectators. Just focus and we should be fine," Harry advised.

Draco nodded and the three of them made their way through the crowd, stopping occasionally to say a quick hello, and into courtroom nine.

They took their seats at the large table set in the centre of the Wizengamot chambers. Floating devices circled the room, which Hermione took a break from revising to explain would visually record and stream live onto a screen in the adjacent courtroom for spectators, to prevent any interruptions during proceedings – which Draco thought was pretty smart for this particular hearing.

"All rise!"

The three of them stood as the members of the Wizengamot made their way to their seats. When everyone was present and accounted for, the same faceless voice that had them stand ordered them to sit.

Draco held his breath.

"I hereby call this session into order. Draco Lucius Malfoy, represented by sponsors Lord Harry James Potter and Hermione Jean, are here today to challenge several conditions of his parole terms."

Draco watched as Hermione stood, earning a round of murmurs from the room. Draco sneered at one old man he caught eyes with who had been sneering at Hermione, figuring they never had a chance at his vote anyway.

"Thank you, Minister, and thank you to this esteemed body for the opportunity to speak. I've come before you – again – to speak against the inhumane and unconstitutional treatment Mr. Malfoy has suffered since the Second Wizarding War. We stand here today though, not to discuss the past but to pave the way into the future. Mr. Malfoy served 1200 days in prison for his contribution to a war he wanted no part of and as a child had no choice in. He deserves the opportunity to rejoin Wizarding society, but to properly do so, a re-evaluation of his parole terms is paramount. Now, if you would all please refer to the list of said conditions, Mr. Potter and I will address how we intend to have Mr. Malfoy meet his terms of release, while addressing those we feel to be unfair or dangerous and offer our suggestions for their improvement."

Hermione resumed her seat and immediately grabbed Draco's hand, gripping it rightly to reassure him, as Harry stood and began their arguments. Draco wasn't sure if she was doing it for him or herself but he liked it all the same.

 _Why didn't they use her last name?_

"The first real term of Mr. Malfoy's parole conditions is that he remains within Britain at all times. This is also the first term we are challenging," Harry began.

"Lord Potter, you cannot be serious!" cried out a voice from somewhere in the third row. Draco recognized it but not who it belonged to, until Lord Perneus Parkinson stood and glared at Draco. He could feel his blood boil already but Hermione dug her nails into his knee to stop him from making any more rude faces or worse, opening his mouth.

"You cannot expect us to let a convicted terrorist travel abroad! Our allies would have a fit!"

The colour drained completely from Draco's face when the father of his childhood best friend and ex-girlfriend publicly called him a _terrorist_. He could hear his heart thrumming in his ears and the resounding echo ricocheting around his mind was causing a painful ache. His eyes began to fog but he refused to cry, turning his head away from the so-called esteemed body to recollect himself.

It helped that Hermione had yet to let go of his knee, although rather than her nails biting into him it was her thumb drawing circles and her hand otherwise resting on him that kept him grounded.

"Those same allies that condemned us when we threw a child into prison for a war largely fought and won by children?" Harry demanded, his voice dripping with scorn as he eyed the pompus pureblood glaring at Draco. "No sir, I certainly disagree. We have submitted for the courts reading several statements from key allies on the continent, including Ireland, France, Spain, Germany, Austria and Bulgaria to name only a few, that have no issue with Mr. Malfoy entering their borders."

Harry turned and levitated a folder to the Minister, who magically duplicated it and sent copies to every member of the chamber. Grumbles could be heard as the folders were flitted through, although the list of countries not afraid of him made Draco's heart lighten, if only slightly. Hermione stood to join Harry on the other side of their table, leaving Draco to watch silent from behind them.

"It is well known to these courts that Mr. Potter, as well as myself, do not work conventional hours nor do we work consistently within Britain—"

"Now see here Lady Potter, that—"

"No, sir. That is not my name. You can take away my surname legally if it makes you all feel so much better but I have declined the title of Lady Potter, so it will be Miss Granger if you please or Miss Potter if you must but those are your two options."

The room went silent. Hermione, however, did not bow down and did not concede.

"As I was saying, our hours and our locations of work vary and if the courts insist on the conditions of Mr. Malfoy's accompanying us throughout all regular facets of our daily lives, there must be some concession. Secondly, it is well known to the courts that his mother, Lady Narcissa Black, is currently living in France and we believe it would be in the best interest of Mr. Malfoy's reintegration and rehabilitation if they are able to meet both in Britain and at her home in France."

Hermione nodded, more to herself than anyone, and returned to her seat so Harry could finish his portion of the arguing without her involvement.

"Hermione, what-"

"Not right now, Draco. I don't think I could answer any of your questions thoroughly enough to satisfy you while these vultures watch," Hermione whispered, leaning over to do so discretely, before returning her attention to the trial going on.


	13. Chapter 13

Draco's head swam with questions but he waited, watching Harry as he began detailing what the next two years would look like for Draco to the full Wizengamot.

 _Thirty hours of work a week? What kind of lunacy is this – wait, plus community service? What community is going to let me in enough to do anything? And what's this poppycock about rehabilitation? We should be fighting that..._

Sensing that Draco was about to complain again, Hermione pinched his leg and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, so he said nothing. Draco was becoming more and more frustrated, with himself for never asking these questions before and with everyone in the room for their involvement in this farcical justice system.

He subconsciously crossed his arms, barring himself from the world around him, and began tapping one foot anxiously while the other dangled over his crossed leg. If the motion was annoying Hermione, she said nothing.

"Hermione, you're up."

Hermione looked up to Harry, who had finished his portion of their hearing without either Hermione or Draco noticing. She nodded and vacated her seat, which was immediately refilled by Harry. "How're you holding up?" he asked, eyeing the blond. Draco looked at him with a tightly drawn in face, but Harry could guess there was a storm raging inside. He gripped Draco's knee, exactly where Hermione had held him earlier, tightly and gave a weak smile to try and reassure him.

"Why is my mother using her maiden name again?" Draco asked, knowing Harry was likelier to spill when it came to Narcissa than Hermione.

He was right.

"You're not going to like the answer but you'll get it in a minute or two if you listen to Hermione's testimony. Just promise me you won't make any outbursts," Harry whispered, his tone frantic enough to suggest Draco probably would.

Nothing could have made Draco more attentive at that exact moment.

"On the topic of the Malfoy estate, we have no intention of appealing for early access. We would, however, like to make clear that Gringotts will be allowed to supply us and by that effect Mr. Malfoy – with reports on his financial standings in the interim to make sure his family's assets are being well protected. We would also like to include in this appeal that while Mr. Malfoy would see none of this himself, we would also like for his mother to be given access to the Malfoy fortune, as she should have been following her trial."

Draco stood up and exclaimed loudly, earning a round of screams and complaints from the Wizengamot and a sharp glare from Hermione.

"What do you mean my mother was barred from the Malfoy fortune?"

Harry pulled him back down to his seat by his elbow and cast a wordless silencing charm, reminding Draco that he needs to keep his head straight if they're to get any of these stupid rules changed. The Malfoy heir, however, was grinding his teeth and balling his hands into fists, prepared to lose his cool any second.

"Mr. Malfoy, address the court."

Harry and Draco turned sharply to the centre of the stands where Shacklebolt stood, facing Draco. Hermione and Harry had hoped to avoid having the temperamental blond from saying anything but it seemed Kingsley had other plans. Draco stood, his rage making his shake as he approached the stand and stood next to Hermione. He avoided her eyes intentionally, not caring how angry she was with him.

"You seemed surprised to find out that your mother had been denied access to the Malfoy vaults," the Minister noted, which received a scornful snort in response by Draco.

"Oh, very much so, sir. I was under the impression that saving your sacrificial lamb from the Dark Lord and helping to end the second war would have at least given my mother the right to her own fortune, but apparently the Malfoy name is a curse too strong to bear."

Hermione sighed and covered her face with her hand, a move that confused Draco.

"We actually had nothing to do with barring her from the Malfoy vaults, Mr. Malfoy. With you and your father behind bars, the Malfoy estate had no rightful leader and so your mother was deemed no longer necessary to the Malfoy line. Were you not aware of this?" Shacklebolt asked, looking at Hermione who refused to look at him.

"What?" Draco asked dumbly.

"Your family's estate ejected her on the basis of her gender," Hermione explained from behind the hand that still covered her eyes and was massaging her temples, "Technically, either you or your father can reinstate her manually once either of you assume the role of head of the Malfoy estates but until then, she's back under the Black banner."

Draco, on top of _apparently_ being a terrorist, now felt like the world's largest idiot. Unable to handle the fifty or so pairs of eyes bearing down on him, he turned and fled the courtroom. He could hear shouts and outrage from the old monsters ruling the country but he didn't stop until he was well shot of the courtroom, down the long and empty hallway and up against the lift gate, gripping it tightly to try and regain some control. He let out a loud, scream in frustration but it did little to calm him down.

"Hey."

Harry had followed him, seemingly alone. Draco, ashamed and weak and trembling, collapsed to his knees but did not turn. Harry waited a moment to make up his mind before going to Draco's left and taking a seat. "Real smooth back there," he joked, no malice in his voice. Draco snorted in spite of himself.

"I know the world's upside down right now. We didn't tell you about Narcissa because you would have wanted to barge into Gringotts and fix it because she's your mother but we couldn't let you. It was optimistic but we had hoped you would just kind of go numb when you heard the news and then when the courts gave her back access, you'd decide not to yell at us too much."

Draco turned to look at the Boy Wonder with incredulous eyes, only to see a boyish grin on Harry's face that softened his rage.

"Once they stopped yelling, I told them Hermione would be finishing our appeal alone and had the two of us properly excused. We can leave whenever you want."

Draco closed his eyes and nodded, grateful and exhausted from the whole ordeal. Harry stood first and extended his hand to Draco, helping him to his feet. Draco was about to apologize for losing his mind – once again – when Harry was, of all things, hugging him.

"Hermione did this a lot when I thought I was losing my mind back in Hogwarts and somehow it always made me feel less pathetic." Harry admitted, letting go of Draco a moment later. Draco, stunned, said nothing, but privately felt a lot less horrible.

. . . . .

When Hermione returned home several hours later, Draco and Harry were just finishing setting the table. Harry had shown Draco how to cook a few dishes while the Slytherin managed overall ingredient prep, having learned those skills years earlier at the potions table. They had spoken more to each other that afternoon than in the all the days prior they'd been living together.

"We did it," she announced, tired but smiling.

"There was a lot of grumbling and one of the old coots in the back called me an ungrateful mudblood at one point but honestly I think that helped us out on a few tie votes," she admitted, unbuttoning her top robe and revealing a lovely dress underneath.

"Your breakdown also helped, Draco. I think some of the old purebloods were touched that you were indignant at how your mother was treated. I'm not sure they consider women equal to men by any means, but you clearly still respect family and that means a lot to them. Even had some of the lefties convinced you have a soul somewhere in there," she joked.

They all sat down for a wonderful meal made of all the odd dishes Draco had learned that afternoon while Hermione gave them the results.

"You can leave the country as long as one of us is with you and you can reapply for your apparition license but travel will be monitored along with everything else I'm afraid. You can visit St. Mungo's, the Ministry and even Hogwarts, although we didn't petition for that – Minerva did. We should send her a thank you note. Oh, and you'll also be getting an owl from Gringotts in the coming week to finalize readmitting your mother to the Malfoy family vaults," Hermione explained, clearly pleased with herself.

Draco was elated; they'd gotten everything they had asked for, and more. Harry thumped him on the back, in his way congratulating him when really they had done all the work. Draco merely smiled back, finished his food and made to start on the dishes. He was getting more comfortable contributing to their oddly comfortable household and figured contributing to household chores was the logical next step.

"Don't worry about those, Hermione has a spell on the sink that trains the dishes to wash themselves in about an hour," Harry explained, smirking as he placed his plate on top of Draco's in the sink and getting a beer from the fridge.

"Can I get you one?" Harry asked, having already shared several drinks over the span of the afternoon.

"Maybe in a bit. Excuse me a while."

Draco went to his bedroom and pulled a piece of parchment and a quill forward, starting a letter to Minerva McGonagall, his unexpected ally in this war on the world. Half way through though, he realized he was writing the wrong letter. Setting it aside, he pulled a new sheet of parchment out and set it in the centre of his desk.

" _Dearest Mother…"_

* * *

 _Authors note:_ Thank you all for continuing to read this! My apologies for the delay in chapters (which is why I've posted two tonight), I had planned to take this past weekend off to celebrate my birthday but I did not figure in how difficult it would be for me to finish the trial. I was insistent that the trial had to happen now before anything else but damn was it a trial of its own to write. On top of developing relations between Draco and Hermione and Draco and Harry, these chapters begin to shed light on the sub-plot of this series: the political post-war ramifications in a traditional and conservative society where women are not yet equals and justice is fair weather. Please let me know what you think of it all!


	14. Chapter 14

_Monday, September 3_ _rd_ _, 2001_

Draco walked down the staircase to the main floor, following the smell of coffee. He had gotten used to the alternate universe like lifestyle he found himself living; he was roommates ("which is all you are, our politically inconvenienced roommate", said Hermione the other night) with two of the people he was most cruel to in his youth.

His mornings were spent eating breakfast with both, taking his potions, reading in the library until lunch, more potions, another meal with Harry and Hermione followed by some reason to leave the house – groceries, a trip to the apothecary, visiting parts of muggle London to continue his education on the majority of Britain's population – and when he got home, he would help with supper. The evenings were always filled with more potions and either more books, a movie, or sitting alone in his room looking at the walls and wondering when this peaceful world he'd been given reprieve in would fade away and his cell bars would come back into view. They never did.

Draco regained his sense of self in that simple pattern, but with the two week mark upon them, everything was going to change.

"Morning," Hermione said from behind her edition of Potions Monthly. Harry looked up from his spot at the counter and nodded, not yet verbal without his coffee. Draco joined him, grabbing his mug from the cabinet as he did, and waited silently alongside his one-time foe.

"I'm done with this if you want a peek, Draco," Hermione offered, bringing the magazine to his spot on the counter. He nodded and began flipping through, watching in his periphery as Hermione went to the window where the Daily Prophet's morning edition was still waiting. She unfurled it and returned to her oatmeal and berries, making hmming and scoffing noises as she reviewed the headlines.

"Of course they would..." she muttered, her rage clearly building. Harry and Draco caught eyes and smirked lightly at Hermione's unintentional dialogue with herself, Harry breaking it off first to pour both of their coffees.

"Do you two have anything planned today?" Hermione asked, not looking at either as they sipped their scalding hot coffees.

"An owl or two but otherwise no," Harry responded, his voice still that early morning scratchy that coffee would slowly cure. "Why do you ask?"

Hermione inverted the Daily Prophet, handling it not at all delicately, and showing the front page off: _Death Eater to Don Auror Robes as per Ministry Mandate_. Draco snarled at the cover and at the photo accompanying it, his face bloodied and dirty on the morning his body was dragged, kicking and screaming, away from the French border. He had made it to the coast, somewhere near Canterbury, when everything when wrong, and the his screaming face on the newspaper's cover was a poignant reminder of how thoroughly defeated he felt that day.

"I know the two of you were going to go in tomorrow to get Draco properly suited and set up for auror responsibilities, but how difficult would it be to sneak in today and get it done, without the Prophet knowing? Because it seems they're prepared to do another full page spread tomorrow of every single step and awkward stare tomorrow, Ministry sanctioned of course," she spat out, tossing the ratty paper onto the breakfast nook in front of her.

Draco turned and looked at Harry, who seemed to be contemplating the many steps involved. Draco wasn't exactly looking forward to working on and off at the auror department throughout the next two years, favoring the kind of work Hermione did as a ward breaker and maker, as well as an obscure magic researcher, but now he was downright dreading it.

"I'm in. Let's go."

Draco sighed and downed the still burning coffee, turning and returning to his room to change to more Ministry suitable clothing. When he returned to the kitchen, he found two Harry Potter's sitting at the breakfast nook. Not sure what Hermione was playing at, Draco walked over and sat next to the closest Potter.

He didn't expect for that Potter to jump halfway out of their skin to get away from him.

"Wotcher cousin, scare a girl half to death!"

Draco couldn't quite make sense of that statement, so he turned and stared at the other Potter for clarification. Harry, the one Draco decided was the real one, sighed and glared lightly at his doppelganger. "You can change back any time you feel like it," he suggested, taking a large gulp from his second coffee.

Draco turned his head to inspect the fake Harry but instead of green eyes and a black mop of hair, he was face to face with a short woman with the most unnatural green hair and dark blue eyes. It was the Black nose though that he focused on, until she scrunched her face and turned it into Severus Snape's hooked nose, drawing Draco out of his confusion with a revolted look on his face.

"Much better. It's rude to stare you know," the woman said, seemingly happy to have Draco looking at her whole face. He replayed the morning so far and remembered she had called him cousin. That, coupled with the nose, meant only one thing.

"Andromeda's daughter," said Draco, not trusting himself to say more. He remembered his Aunt Bella raging on and on about the 'daughter of my good for nothing blood traitor sister' and her unfortunate marriage to Remus Lupin who, for all Draco said about him in their third year, wasn't wholly awful.

When Draco figured out from Snape's essay assignment and the bountiful supply of aconite conveniently visible in the potions lab that there was a werewolf on campus, he recoiled at the idea of a monster among students, but the man never quite lived up the horror stories Draco had heard as a child.

Fenrir Greyback, however, did. Draco would have no trouble differentiating the two.

Schooling his expression to being entirely neutral, Draco put a hand out to shake his cousins. She broke into a bright smile, pink leaking out of the top of her head and highlighting her chopped locks, and took his hand and turned the proffered peace offer into an uncomfortable hug. Draco turned to Harry in panic, but his enemy-turned-ally just laughed into his fist, obscuring the mirth on his face, and did nothing to help.

 _That traitorous bastard…!_

"Alright, I'm done making you uncomfortable for now, but I reserve the right to continue if and really, when the opportunity presents itself," the woman said, releasing Draco from her grip and moving further into the bench to give Draco proper room to settle. "Harry was just explaining to me your plans to infiltrate the Ministry without the press any the wiser. Can't teach an old dog new tricks, hmm?"

Harry laughed, suggesting to Draco that he was okay to smile, so he did. Harry then launched back into what they had already been discussing, which was the many steps required to register Draco with the Ministry, who the main players were, and how to circumvent the lot of it.

"Tonks brought by all the paperwork you need to fill out on our department's end, that's what you're reading now. Grab a pen off the counter and start filling those out," Harry ordered, sending a secretive smile to Draco, guessing that the later wasn't sure what he should be calling his cousin by. Draco nodded and got to work, grabbing one pen for him to use and another to charm for repetitive forms.

"Remus is already at the Ministry, getting some of the forms you'll need from Health Services so we can fill them out, away from prying eyes," Tonks informed, going off of the list she and Harry had been consulting when Draco first entered, "You also have to do a physical, but there's technically a clause allowing you to do it at St. Mungo's and nothing to say you can't do it later tonight."

"Isn't your boss going to be put out that you're doing all of this without any warning?" Draco asked, somewhat absentmindedly as he finished one form after another with mindless repetition. His cousin chuckled before responding, "Nah, I'm a huge fan of initiative."

"Wait, you're the head of the auror department?" Draco asked, surprised. He could remember how his father has lost his mind when a woman – Amelia Bones – had been named the head of the DMLE years ago and couldn't imagine the Ministry being a much better place towards woman these days.

"Against their better judgement," she replied, a smirk on her face suggesting she knew exactly what he was thinking. Embarrassed for his father and for himself, he blushed and shrunk slightly into himself. "Helps that the only man with more experience and qualifications than me is the Minister of Magic himself. We lost a lot of good people during the war and in the follow up. Took on a lot of people right away to try and fill the gap but half of them were vigilantes there to abuse the badge."

Draco nodded, thinking back to the two wankers who had arrested him, and couldn't agree more with the description.

"I've had a hell of a time clearing out the dead weights in the department, and I'm hoping that adding you to our roster will help shake things up again, show where the weak ends are hiding," she went on, a somewhat feral, vindictive smile on her face. "I shouldn't enjoy firing those cocksure assholes as much as I do, so let's just blame the Black in me."

This time Draco and Harry both snorted.

"That leaves the DMLE for your criminal records, Wizengamot administrative services for your parole clearance forms, and a stop at the Records department to deposit it all," said Tonks, making a small note on the list that Draco didn't bother trying to decipher.

"Hermione is wrestling with the Wizengamot folks to get those clearance forms and should have them by the time we arrive," Harry explained, taking over for his boss, "and I have a friend in the DMLE getting your criminal records set aside for us on the down low so no one can tip off Skeeter."

Draco nodded again, finishing up his last form and not noticing that Harry was pulling something out of his bag and setting it on the table. Not that he could really be blamed, though, considering it was largely invisible.

"Well then, if you're done with those, it's time to suit up and go."

* * *

Author's note: First off, a very happy birthday to our favorite werewolf. I knew I had to decide soon whether or not he and Tonks lived, and since the timing worked out as well as it did, I figured this would be a nice birthday present for our favorite professor. Secondly, some of you might recognize "politically inconvenient roommate" from Colubrina's _Protective Custody_ , which was meant in homage: her story helped nurture the seedling that was Silver Linings, a story of a hurt Draco in an unfair political environment.


	15. Chapter 15

_Monday, September 3rd, 2001_

Their first destination was the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There, a man was perched uncomfortably on his desk, tensing slightly more as Harry and Tonks entered the room. As they walked past, he slipped a folder into Harry's proffered arm discretely, no words exchanged, and the pair continued to walk out as if nothing had happened.

They split up at the lifts, Harry and Tonks able to get in with the half dozen others heading down, while Draco under the cloaks protection took the less busy stairs. So far, so good. He arrived on the 8th floor several minutes later, having a tougher time discretely moving around the busiest level in the building, and found Harry, Hermione and Tonks talking near the Fountain of Magical Brethren, as glorious and offensive as it was before the War.

"…I do, however, owe Katie. If she hadn't shown up when she did, I would have cursed that simple minded clerk and then Azkaban would have a new occupant," muttered Hermione, earning a laugh from Harry.

"All that matters is that we have his documents. Remus should be in the cafeteria, where we should be heading right now. We'll meet you at the hospital, okay?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded and kissed his cheek, doing the same for Tonks, before leaving. "Come along then, my baby cousin isn't going to wait around for us all day. Odds are he's already at the doors, cursing under his breath," Tonks said in a low voice, linking arms with Harry.

"Also, the sooner we get there, the sooner Remus will go home. The full moon was last night but Remus insisted on getting in on this little hijinks. He's hobbling around with his cane and he'll pretend it doesn't wipe him out but I'm betting he'll be in bed for most of the week."

Draco was too distracted to follow their conversation after that, noting that no one had stopped them once to say anything to Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world. Did they not treat him any different after defeating the Dark Lord, or had defending him and befriending his mother somehow manage to overrule all of Harry's previous accomplishments?

They arrived at the cafeteria quickly enough, Draco tapping Tonks' elbow to remind her of his presence. She held the door open for him and Harry as they entered the large dining hall, where perhaps a dozen or so were sipping late morning coffees or starting early lunches.

 _Perhaps here people would trip all over themselves to get a seat next to the Chosen One_ – but no, Harry was able to get two coffees and a piece of chocolate cake from the counter before finding Tonks and her husband at quiet corner of the room, untouched and unnoticed.

"Remus, how are you holding up?" Harry asked, sliding the cake across before the old werewolf could protest. He laughed and accepted as his wife took a sip from her coffee with eyes trained on his every move.

"I'm more stiff than sore right now, but that will come later when I stop moving," replied Remus, wincing slightly. Draco could see the way the man moved slowly and thought back to his first night out of Azkaban: sore all over, scared to move one muscle the wrong way, uncomfortable in his own body.

 _Why is he doing this for me?_

"Suffice it to say, if you were taking what I am, you'd be laid out on the floor, drooling." Remus joked, his tired eyes sparkling.

Draco watched as the papers he needed were slid across the table, Tonks discretely tucking them into the pre-existing pile and disillusioned them. Draco had already filled out most of the questions those forms would ask on the forms required for the auror department, so transferring the answers over would be easy, and for everything else there was his impending physical, one of only two things left to do.

That this should have normally taken a full day with all the public scorn and the pernicious press, trailing after them taking photo after photo, disgusted Draco, but they were so nearly free. Then the last person they wanted to see joined them at the table, sitting directly across from Draco.

"Mr. Minister, look at you slumming it with the rest of us," Tonks joked, torn between pleased to see her friend and unhappy with his timing. Perhaps he could sense that because he looked around the group, trying to make sense of their purpose. "Remus, you're around and about earlier than usual."

Remus coughed into his one hand and lifted his cane with the other, saying "I'm not without my aches, but apparently I missed the deadline with my annual health reports, so I came in to grab my forms." Kingsley discretely peeked down, checked and was pleased to see that Remus did indeed have his annual lycanthrope paperwork in front of him.

"I'm glad to see you're submitting the forms, Remus. It's excessive but if it means letting lycanthopes work at the Ministry and receive some benefits, it's worth it, right?" Kingsley asked rhetorically, not for the first time. Remus, as he knew, was a staunch opponent of the abusively invasive paperwork, but doing it made Dora's life easier, meant he could work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and today of all days, it actually worked out in their general favor. As such, he simply nodded and took another bite of his cake.

Kingsley nodded in return and looked around the now silent group. He caught Harry's eye, despite Harry's best effort, and went into politician mode.

"I imagine you saw this morning's paper," he began, prepared to go into a well rehearsed defence of the decision. The Ministry was under immense pressure to turn the decision by the Wizengamot to tie Draco Malfoy to whoever sponsored him as a positive thing, rehabilitation over punishment, atoning for past sins, while somehow also showing how far the Malfoy's have fallen from grace and participate in the public shaming part of the exercise. Of course, Kingsley had no intention of mentioning that.

"Of course. Hermione was pretty put out by it, but there's not much for it. Draco will be here tomorrow morning for his first day on the job all the same," Harry said, choosing his words carefully while keeping his voice casual. Kingsley nodded and exhaled, grateful he wouldn't get much opposition from Harry over it.

But Harry wasn't done speaking, and while it went against the plan to say anything, it was something that very much needed to be said. "That's not to say we're okay with it though, Kings. He's a fucking human and you're giving the world permission to treat him like an animal. We won't make it easy for you from here on out."

Kingsley locked eyes with Harry, unhappy to be butting heads again, but said nothing. He had challenged Harry in the past and vice versa, when laws came up for votes and when it came to Draco Malfoy. Despite that, though, they were friends.

"I should head back to my office," he said instead, opting for neutrality. He smiled and nodding to Tonks and Remus and took his leave. Despite agreeing with Harry, he knew Hermione and knew this wouldn't stand with the witch. He hated to check, but if they were up to something, it was better he cut it off now before it was too late.

"Do you think he suspects anything?" Draco asked after the Minister left, noticing the shifting looks between Tonks and Harry. The latter nodded and without a word stood up. The rest of the table followed, Remus the slowest.

"C'mon, we should head straight for the Records department. We can deposit all of this and then go straight to St. Mungo's," Harry whispered, waving his wand over the pile to have the information on the forms Remus had supplied them fill themselves out as he tucked them under his arm. "We might have fifteen minutes before Kingsley figures us out."

Draco nodded and followed Harry, who led the way out of the cafeteria. Thankfully the atrium was less busy as the late morning types disappeared and the lunch rush was yet to begin. They made it to the fifth floor without any interruptions or delays and found a witch waiting at the reception desk with no one in their way.

"Penelope, how are you?" Harry asked, walking up to the desk. Draco hung at his side, waiting for his cue to reveal himself.

"Hello, Harry! I'm well, and yourself?" She asked, smiling up at the young Gryffindor she fondly remembered from their years at Hogwarts. He had killed the basilisk that had petrified her, so as far as she was concerned, he was the Boy Who Could Do No Wrong. "Oh you know, just rebelling against the system. My usual," Harry joked, reaching out and pulling his invisibility cloak off of Draco.

Penelope covered her mouth to try and muffle her gasp of surprise, making Harry smile that endearing boyish grin he used when he expected someone was about to be mad at him. "We have all of his paperwork to start with the Ministry right here. Would you mind filing these for us?"

Penelope glared at Harry, not amused that she was being brought into whatever he was up to, but sighed and accepted the paperwork. "You owe me one," she muttered, smiling when Harry nodded and gave her another smile. Penelope cracked a small smile in return and shooed the two wizards away, turning and bringing Draco's paperwork to the backroom to be properly filed.

"Now, back to the atrium and so we can floo to St. Mungo's, best to put the cloak–" but Harry didn't get to finish his sentence before flashing lights blinded both men and recorders were shoved into their faces. Without noticing, they were swarmed by reporters as they entered the atrium, questions about 'why they were working behind the Ministry's back' and 'were they worried Draco could be sent back to Azkaban for this' and 'did Harry do this because he is ashamed to be seen with Draco' being shouted at them from every direction.

Harry, having none of this, grabbed Draco's arm and Apparated away with the loudest crack he could manage. They arrived at the Apparation point across the road from the hospital but as they crossed the street and made to enter, reporters that had been camped out encircled them and demanded many of the same questions the pair had just been assaulted by, photos being taken with bright flashing lights, hands grabbing at them to try and stop them from trying to push their way through.

In retaliation, it seemed Kingsley had given the press free reign to make up for their PR loss. Harry didn't blame him, but the bruises forming on his arms were not exactly appreciated either.

The two pushed through to the front doors, where security guards prevented the onslaught from continuing. Once inside, Hermione pounced on them, her face flushed with anxiety and the worry lines around her eyes evident.

"I tried to have them removed from the premises entirely but the best I could do was to keep them out of the hospital proper. If you could have flooed in you would have avoided them entirely, but I'm guessing you didn't make it out of the Ministry unscathed," Hermione said, talking herself into a tizzy as she accurately guessed what had transpired over the past few whirlwind minutes.

"Don't worry, Hermione. Nothing but a few fingertip sized bruises." Harry joked, kissing her forehead and waving to the doctor standing ten or so feet away waiting for his signal to join the conversation.

With Draco securely inside the hospital, they could finish the examination and while it was a minor win at best, it was a sign to the Ministry and the Wizengamot that they didn't plan to make their planned abuse of Draco any easier.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry rolled from one side of his bed to the other, still unable to sleep. The bruises he had gotten from the aggressive reporters earlier had been magicked away as quickly as he'd gotten them, but he just couldn't sleep. Judging by the moonlight, bright from a no longer entirely full moon, and where it was along his large bay window, he estimated it was around three in the morning.

Resigned to what was likely awaiting him, he climbed out of bed and grabbed the t-shirt slung across the back of the chair near his fireplace. Decent, he slipped from his room into Hermione's, where the silencing charm no longer protected him from the shrill screams of the woman thrashing in her sleep.

Harry walked over, slowly so as not to startle her awake, and slipped into her bed behind her. He first used his legs to pull hers in, holding her down to prevent her from hurting herself any further. He slipped one arm underneath her torso and with both hands clasped hers, pulling her back up against his chest and cocooning her in his arms.

"Shhh, Hermione. Come back to me," Harry whispered into her hair, nuzzling up against the back of her ear and pulling her lightly from whatever nightmare was plaguing her this time, though he was pretty sure he could guess what it was this time.

"Harry?" Hermione eventually whispered into the darkness, unsure and afraid. Disoriented, she tilted her head until she could clearly smell him; always the smell of fresh laundry, somewhat faded after a long day, mixed with the subtle scents of freshly mown grass in the morning and something distinctly foresty. He smelled of hope and strength and Hermione desperately needed the second as she began to cry, her chest tightening painfully as she heaved with each sob.

"It's okay Hermione, we're all okay. No one is chasing us, no one was splinched. You're safe, in my arms, at home. Everything is okay," Harry promised, repeating those reassuring words over and over into Hermione's hair, using the smell of her shampoo to help him remain focused. The smell of rosemary and peppermint always calmed Harry down because Hermione had always made everything better, and if ever he could do the same for her, he always would.

Her nightmares started during the war; not knowing if Ron had arrived home safely, if her parents had escaped safely, if they would even make it out alive. Harry held her close at night during that unbearable period when it was just the two of them on the run, at first claiming it was for warmth but eventually they both accepted it for what it really was: very desperately needed comfort, for both of them.

When the war finished, Hermione insisted that they both saw someone to speak about what happened. She found a psychiatrist who knew of their world, the muggle sister of a Hufflepuff a few years their senior, and within only a few months her nightmares quieted down. They never fully left, often triggered by strong connections to their times on the run or under attack, but they became controllable and predictable, which helped a lot.

Tonight, she had dreamt of Draco on the ground, bleeding and screaming as Ron had many years ago, his body ripped apart by an Apparation gone awry – only Hermione couldn't fix him. She couldn't stop the bleeding or the pain or the crying.

Harry could just imagine what she saw, as she calmed down enough to vocalize her fears in order to start getting over them. He had done exactly that to Draco not so long before, and had nightmares of that day ever since.

Perhaps Hermione noticed how he stiffened behind her, or how he held her tighter, or maybe how his breathing seemed to almost stop. Wiggling out of his grip, Hermione rolled over and wrapped her arms around Harry, holding him close. In silence, they drank in each others pain to try and lessen it, but really just being there was all the other one needed.

"You know, someday we're going to be far too old to snuggle every time one of us has a bad dream," Hermione joked, her face snuggled into the crevice between Harry's jaw and collarbone. He laughed and lowered his face, kissing her hair.

"You're one to talk, Ms.-almost-twenty-two. You're certainly coming on in age, aren't you?" Harry teased, wincing slightly when Hermione shoved her bony knee into his.

"How shall we celebrate, oh Mione-mine? Last year we did a week in Italy but I don't know if I'll be able to get the time off this year," Harry murmured, settling in to Hermione's bed, shifting her so that she was partially on top of him.

She sighed and used the arm not draped on him to raise her body slightly, looking him over with a soft smile on her face, the tear tracts illuminated by the moonlight streaming into her room pointedly ignored, despite how they made her eyes shine.

"As much as I loved last year, we spent a good portion in the muggle side and somehow I don't imagine Draco would be quite so comfortable with that yet, although he has made great strides," she admitted, thinking of their interactions in the muggle world and of the looks of wonder and confusion painted on his pale face.

Harry smirked, perhaps imagining Draco on a roller coaster or in a crowded shopping mall, and Hermione smacked him with her loose arm for enjoying the thought too much.

"Calm down woman, I wouldn't actually—"

"Please don't finish that thought."

The two smiled at each other and said nothing more, Hermione lowering her head back to her safety place and snuggling in. Harry tugged her comforter up, pulling it tight along the contours of her body, and listening to Hermione slowly drop into a peaceful slumber, settled in for a few more hours sleep.

. . . . .

Hermione managed to slide off of Harry and to the side of the bed by the time Harry woke up, the sun tickling his eyes. He blinked away the sleep and looked at his best friend, curled up in a ball beside him. Her worry lines were gone and other than a wayward strand of hair poking into her mouth, she looked perfectly content. Harry smirked as he tugged the lock of hair loose from her lips and quietly left the bed.

He wasn't sure what time it was but he hoped it was early enough that he could avoid seeing Draco in the hall. Exiting the room and resealing the door wordlessly, Harry turned to leave and was face to face with Draco, who was just then leaving his own room.

The tosser raised an eyebrow in question.

"She gets nightmares sometimes," Harry responded, leaving it at that and quickly escaped to his bedroom, where he closed and sealed his door before sliding down it and groaning. Whatever his relationship with Hermione was now, having been clearly defined before the bonding and slowly morphing ever since, Draco could only make things worse.

Draco however had nothing to say. He stood in the hallway, his eyes following Harry while he disappeared into his room and then shifted to Hermione's door. He hadn't heard any noise from the other side but he guessed that if he could ward his room quiet during the night then she could too. Lost in those thoughts, Draco didn't notice the door creaked open until a mousy brown head of hair pushed out.

"Oh, Draco. I didn't expect to see you outside my door," Hermione mumbled, clearly having just woken. He nodded, looking her over. No telltale signs of night terrors, but that's not to say she didn't already spell away the red marks from strangling sheets or the tears on her face.

"Just heading downstairs now. Should I put some tea on for you?"

Hermione dimpled, and suddenly Draco found himself blushing lightly. He had been careful to exist quietly since the trial, accepting that his life was no longer as the Slytherin prince or as heir to the world. He was just-Draco now, and he lived with just-Hermione and just-Harry, despite the constant urges to taunt them or be cruel, as he had in his youth. But when she smiled at him like that, it was like he wasn't just-Draco at all.

"Thank you, Draco. I'd love some. I'll join you downstairs shortly," and with that slipped back in her room. Draco watched the door for another minute before continuing his original quest to the kitchen for some food.

 _Not even eight in the damn morning and already these two have me feeling all out of sorts. Damn touchy feely Gryffindors…_

* * *

 _Authors note: I usually wait until I reach a certain number of views on one chapter before posting the next but I was too happy with how this chapter turned out to wait much longer._


	17. Chapter 17

Draco's first day in the auror department went curiously well. His desk was garbage free and the two other auror's that shared Harry's – and now their—office were out of town, so Draco didn't have to meet them for another week. They mostly worked on paperwork and spent some time in the training area, Draco going through drills to give Tonks a general idea of his abilities.

He was definitely no auror yet, good and proper, but she looked more than pleased with herself when she told him "Go shower baby cousin, you're starting to smell."

Draco spent the next day on the job with Hermione, who took them to muggle London, or so Draco thought until they walked down Whitehall road and into a large marble building filled with goblins.

"Gringotts was rather ruined during the war," Hermione murmured, her cheeks lightly tinted, "so they opened up a temporary branch here, just a few doors down from the Ministry. The main branch is fully repaired again, but they kept this one open to expand their business coverage, investment banking, what have you."

Draco nodded and watched as the goblins, already usually brusque, were downright rude with Hermione as they directed them to a set of vaults they wanted additional warding added to. Draco was, as far as he knew, just there to learn for now. He was surprised when Hermione asked for his input and let him test what she had put up.

"You'll get good at this Draco, don't worry," Hermione promised, his eyes betraying that she knew something she wasn't saying, but Draco missed it as one of the goblins came back to direct them to the next set of vaults.

So, by Thursday morning, Draco had no clue what to expect. He dressed in regular robes and met with his roommates in the kitchen. Harry gave him a grimace of a smile as he poured his coffee into a travel mug and exited the room. Draco turned to Hermione with a questioning look and found her scowling after her best friend.

"Chicken."

He smirked and poured a coffee for himself, trying to hide how unsettled he was by Harry's quick exit. _What could possibly be the matter already?_ He took a seat next to Hermione, who was not wearing robes today but rather a light blue dress and her hair in soft curls. Draco hated to admit it, imagining his 13 year old self with a face of utter revulsion, but Hermione had definitely grown into herself. She was beautiful but he'd eat knives sooner than tell her that though.

"The Wizengamot has decided who your Mind Healer will be as per your rehabilitation conditions," Hermione began, her tone measured. She continued speaking when it seemed Draco was about to argue, "We had planned to arrange this on our end but they beat us to it, it's just that simple."

Draco harrumphed and crossed his arms in protest but said nothing. He already knew he was going to have to talk to someone, Hermione had made that point abundantly clear when she argued he didn't need any help after the War and Azkaban. She had really torn him a new one and it was technically their first big fight but neither had said anything actually cruel to the other, so Draco dreaded when that 'first' would happen. He imagined it was only a matter of time.

"Fine, where do I go?" He asked petulantly, not angry with her but the situation. She seemed to be able to understand that and relaxed minutely, handing him the note that had been sent through the mail.

"You have to go to Ministry administration services to get the floo address. You can go straight from there. Apparently your first appointment is today at 1 p.m."

Draco nodded and with his coffee in one hand and the note in the other, he retreated to his room to come to terms with the fact that his day would be spent with some psycho shrink trying to make him have feelings and talk about his father.

. . . . .

He stepped out of the fireplace and at 12:55 in the afternoon found himself in a well lit waiting room. A young man was sitting at the desk directly in front of him and smiled when their eyes met.

"Mr. Malfoy, you can take a seat. The healer will be ready for you shortly, but in the meantime can I get you a water or tea?"

Draco nodded and asked for a water, taking a seat by the generously sized window and settling in. Already this wasn't at all what he was expecting from the Ministry, imagining their preference would be to send him to some dank dungeon or even maybe to a muggle to try and unsettle him. Instead he got yellow walls and plush blue couches for seating and a wide selection of reading material along the walls.

He sifted through magazines on the table to his side, thanking the receptionist when he brought over a glass of cool water, and settled on a dated issue of Which Witch. The cover story and ultimately half of the magazine itself was dedicated to the sordid break up between Harry and the youngest Weasley, with so much embellishment that Draco could hardly guess where the fiction began and (hopefully) ended.

"Alright Mr. Malfoy, you can head in," he was told about ten pages in to an old issue of Potions Monthly. He considered shoving the magazine in his pocket to finish but figured if he was to return here every week for the foreseeable future that he would want to have some future reading material, and so left it behind.

Mentally preparing himself for whatever was on the other side of the now open door, Draco walked in and looked around.

He couldn't have properly prepared himself to face Luna Lovegood.

 _No, anyone but her!  
_

"You know, I think the Wizengamot chose me to be your Mind Healer because they knew I'd been tortured in your home. I think they figured _who better to dole out more psychological trauma than a professional who you had personally tortured_? What I don't think they had anticipated was that facing me would hurt you more than anything I could have done," Luna Lovegood said from her spot behind his desk, a serene smile on her face that Draco remembered from the early days of her incarceration in his home and continued to be haunted by.

Draco couldn't hear anything she said though as the memories of torturing her and others rushed back, crashing through his brain and ricocheting around, leaving him nauseous and disoriented. He could smell the blood again, feel the tremor of his hand as he unleashed spell after spell on mangled bodies. The almost imperceptible sound of ripping skin echoed through his body, making him shake as he felt his own torture, physical and magical, ghosting across every inch of skin.

Luna unfurled her legs and got up from her seat, bare foot and as short as he remembered but _her hair was all wrong_ , and approached Draco. He shrank back, stunned silent by the sight of her and so afraid of hurting her again – of being hurt again – but she took his hand all the same and pulled him over to the over sized plush sofa beside her desk.

"I'm sorry that seeing me is causing you so much pain, but I really do plan to help you. Hermione helped me, after all, years ago."

Luna let go of Draco and turned back to her desk, pouring tea from a pot Draco hadn't noticed into cups he couldn't see. She turned again and put one in his hand and he couldn't feel any heat from it, although somewhere in his mind the logical voice said it must be hot because he could see the tendrils of heat rise up.

He felt nothing.

"I went over to the flat she shared with Ron because she had a book on Central American tropical rainforests that she offered to loan me," Luna began explaining, kneeling down in front of Draco to watch his face as she did, "I have no idea what set me off but I collapsed in her home, unable to feel anything, crying and screaming. I blacked it all out and only know it happened because I woke up on her couch several hours later, tucked under a blanket with my head on her lap while she read me a book."

Draco should have been paying more attention but he got caught at the mention of a blanket and a small part of him – a part that wanted to wake up from this drowning feeling to being protected – wondered if it was the same blanket in his room.

 _Probably not._

"She explained that while magic can mend bones in a heartbeat, we don't really have anything to cure trauma. She had really bad nightmares after the war and went to see a muggle mind healer and asked if I would consider seeing one too. She looked so scared for me, so I went."

She paused and examined Draco, who continued to sit there completely still but at least he was listening. She leaned forward and guided his right hand holding the cup up to his lips, and tipped it back ever so slightly so he could sip. It burned but he remained quiet.

"I submitted myself to someplace that could help and stayed there for six months. I learned early on that helping yourself is easier done helping others, so after I left, I took on an apprenticeship with St. Mungo's and in the evenings I took classes at a Muggle university. I graduated this past summer, and you're my seventh patient."

Draco didn't know what to say to that so he said nothing, but Luna seemed to be okay with that. She stood back up and returned to her seat behind her desk and drank her tea, watching Draco but not waiting for him to do anything in particular. While it probably unnerved others, Draco was calmed by it.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you. I hope you know I never wanted any of it."

Draco had to say it, even if it came out as barely a whisper. He was grateful Luna let him. Maybe she needed to hear it too, because she closed her eyes as he spoke and really thought about what she said before replying.

"I understand, and I accept."

For the next twenty minutes they said nothing and drank their tea.


	18. Chapter 18 - The French (Part One)

_Friday, September 7, 2001_

Hermione found Draco that night and asked about his first session. He answered slowly, telling her that he was meeting with Luna Lovegood but not mentioning his initial breakdown or why it had happened. If she didn't already know – and he hoped deep down that she didn't – he didn't want to tell her. She smiled as he explained that they were silent at first, only interrupting to say that Luna is great at giving you time to figure out where your head is before she expects you to answer, and nodded at all the appropriate places as Draco recounted the last forty minutes of his appointment.

She was glad he wasn't upset that he would be spending the next few months visiting Luna, or at least _not yet_.

"I hope this is okay, and tell me if it isn't," Hermione began, making Draco groan and hide his head in his hands. Hermione swatted him, furrowing her brow as his childish reaction, and went on. "We've been invited to the French embassy for a party. Their Ministry just elected a new Minister and so the ambassador is celebrating."

Whatever Draco had been expecting Hermione to say, it wasn't _that_.

"There were a lot of people who helped me when I initially challenged the Wizengamot's decision to imprison you three years ago, and the diplomatic community was a huge part of that. They also helped to keep pressure on the Ministry after that first appeal failed and keep the issue in the news," she continued, now fiddling with the edge of her dress. Draco reached over and put a hand on hers, stopping her before she drove him crazy.

"The French ambassador was one of your strongest supporters, and the French government one of the most vocal in your defence. There will be a lot of our allies at this party. It will probably be packed and you would need to wear dress robes but you should come."

Draco nodded, having thought before that he would need to find out who had been fighting for him aside from the obvious contenders. Working with Harry at the Ministry had demonstrated that whatever political capital he'd had after defeating Voldemort, it hadn't lasted very long, at least not in Britain.

He could understand why Hermione might think he would reject the idea, but she while she was a little Slytherin sometimes, she wasn't raised in a dungeon. Draco agreed to go, no fuss made. No, Draco was very much looking forward to it. He wanted to meet his allies.

. . . . .

Friday evening came swiftly and Draco found himself in dress robes Hermione had bought him weeks ago, again admiring her taste and surprised she had gotten his measurements exactly right. Harry slipped into his room to loan him a set of cuff links, an oversight of Hermione's that Draco would be sure to drop later on in conversation, and together the two set for the main floor to wait for their final member.

"So, this is going to be a big event?" Draco asked, making conversation. Harry tore his eyes away from the staircase to look at Draco and nod. "The election in France was really tight but Blanchett won by a three per cent margin, which is good for us. She and Edmunde, the ambassador, are old friends." Draco nodded, committing the names of the Minister and ambassador to memory.

"Who will all be there, do you think?"

"Well, lots of diplomats and ambassadors from other countries, Ministry officials from here. Kingsley might show. The rich and the affluent are probably a safe bet, if only because it's just another one of those things," Harry explained, ending his explanation there as they heard noises from the top of the stairs to suggest Hermione was coming down.

Draco didn't mean to stare but the dress Hermione had chosen completely disarmed him. It hugged her closely, showing her body off in ways Draco wasn't comfortable to suddenly be thinking of. The deep blue colour did wonderful things in contrast with her skin, making Draco suddenly aware of freckles on her exposed shoulders and collar bones as she approached him. The dress was simply elegant and Draco couldn't help but wonder if his mother had a hand in its selection. Even her jewellery elicited a response from him, a delicate several tiered diamond necklace that demanded he pay attention to her lovely neck.

Draco snapped his mouth shut and shook his head in a quick, short movement, noticing Harry with his mouth hanging open similarly at his side. Draco gave him a light jab to the ribs, startling the man out of his reverie, and took Hermione's hand to kiss it before she could stop him.

"Someone cleans up well," he said, hoping she wouldn't notice the tone of admiration behind the comment. Unfortunately she did which brought a blush to her face that Draco couldn't help but react to. "Well I figured with the two of you sharing me as your date for the evening, it might be worth it to take my monthly bath early," Hermione replied, the blush fading as she regained control of herself.

"Come along men, we've a party to attend," she ordered, setting her arms out for the pair of them to take. Draco immediately took her right side while Harry linked arms with her left, and the witch whisked them away to Draco's first real social event as a free man.

. . . . .

Perhaps Draco would have been more overwhelmed by the event if he had not been raised going to similar functions. The party was an outdoor event, taking advantage of one of the last few naturally warm summer nights, and well-lit by magical means. Men in muggle tuxedos mingled with women wearing traditional robes and vice versa, with some women wearing provocative numbers not dissimilar to Hermione's dress and men dressed to the nine's in robes very much like Harry's and Draco's.

"I should have made you cue cards to help you learn the important players before we came out tonight," Hermione muttered under her breath, nervously biting her thumb as the trio made their way from the building proper and towards their host.

"Just don't abandon me and I'm sure we'll make it through," Draco replied dryly, scanning the area for familiar faces and managing to place several.

"Edmunde, _félicitations_. May I introduce Draco Malfoy," Hermione said, snapping Draco's attention back to the man in front of him. Muggle suit, timid eyes, a well-trimmed beard.

" _C'est un plaisir_ ," the woman at his side replied, reaching out and taking Draco's hand. His brain stalled for a moment before it clicked, _Edmunde is a woman_ , and he shook her hand in return, saying " _Enchanté_." He scanned her, in a mauve dress that stopped just below her knees, mid forties by his guess with her hair in a simple chignon. She watched him as he watched her, unsure if he should kiss her cheek but certain he shouldn't kiss her hand the way he had kissed Hermione's earlier. Pleased he was waiting for her initiative, she leaned forward and exchanged kissed with him, formally welcoming him into her home.

She did the same with Hermione next and then Harry, exchanged small pleasantries and then the three worked their way into the open terrace, which flowed naturally into a large expanse of land that eventually ended at a small lake. Draco watched as Hermione squeezed Harry's arm and nudged her head toward a group of men not too far away.

"He's here," she whispered, earning a look from Harry. He sighed in resignation and looked pleadingly to Hermione but she returned an unrelenting look of her own. Sighing again, clearly outmatched, Harry nodded and went over to the group.

"What was that about?" Draco asked, watching as Harry tapped one of the men on the shoulder and the two embraced. Hermione was watching as well, her face betraying nothing. "That's Marcus, he's with the French mission. He and Harry went on a few dates a few weeks ago but Harry ended things without much fanfair, just stopped responding to his owls or calls. It was bad form, so he promised me if Marcus was here tonight that he would clear the air. We don't have any time for petty drama, especially with the French," Hermione muttered, not giving Draco any time to digest what he just learned before turning and introducing Draco to a couple that approached them with determined looks on their face.

. . . . .

"Hermione, if you introduce me to one more person I swear I will jump into the lake and that will be the last you ever see of me," Draco whispered into her ear after hours of introductions and pleasantries.

The reconnaissance mission was a rousing success, with Draco pleasantly surprised to find that the majority of the party actually supported him and that those who didn't were more or less ambivalent. He had decided they would be done with the mingling when Hermione, wearing heels that did wonders for her legs as he knew from occasionally caught peeks through the modest slit along her side, declared herself done for the night but she just would not quit. Draco however, breaking in new black shoes, was thoroughly defeated long before Hermione would even hear of taking a break.

"Oh no you don't," she whispered back, smiling but strangely not at his expense. "Besides, you already know these four. I made sure they came tonight just for you," she whispered back, giving a small wave behind Draco's back that had him ready to groan audibly if he wasn't aware of the watchful eye of the witch at his left and the obnoxious smirk of the wizard to his right.

Harry left his side first, embracing whoever had decided to join them.

"Too good for old friends, Draco?"

Ears perked, Draco spun completely and found himself face to face with three Slytherin he thought he would never see again.

Daphne Greengrass hugged him first, holding him tightly for longer than was polite, before her younger sister Astoria took over. Theo, Draco's roommate throughout school, looked on with a smile and nodded to Draco, who nodded back, stunned.

"Out of prison for week's already and not one single owl? Did you forget how to send one?" Daphne asked, her face a mask of annoyance betrayed by her amused eyes. She had returned to the side of the forth member of the group, a man Draco didn't know. He asked the obvious question with his eyes but Daphne only responded with an almost imperceptible shrug and a wink.

 _It seems a lot has changed in three years._


	19. Chapter 19 - The French (Part Two)

Satisfied that Draco was in competent hands, Hermione and Harry left to continue the rounds of small talk with important people, but more importantly give Draco some time with the friends he didn't realize he still had from his childhood.

Daphne introduced Draco to Jean-Christophe Chastain, her French pureblooded husband, after shaming Draco for not recognizing him from their nuptial announcement in the paper immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco didn't have it in him to remind her that he was on the run trying to broker his way to freedom in her beau's homeland so he apologized with heavy sarcasm instead and all was well.

That Daphne was gay went unmentioned.

Theo took over the conversation from there, catching Draco up on news that the Golden Duo wouldn't have known or thought to share – who left after the war and cut all communication (Blaise), who had died (Goyle, who took his own life after losing Draco as well), who went to prison (pretty much everyone from their parents' generation, minus those who died in battle), who was married (that list was even longer) – and it was then that Draco noticed how Astoria leaned in to Theo's arm as he spoke.

"Including yourselves, then," he remarked, earning a blush from Astoria, his once-upon-a-time betrothed, and a smirk from his once-upon-a-time roommate. _I'm glad she didn't wait around, she and Theo are a good match._

But all Theo said in response was that "A lot's changed in three years."

He went on to tell Draco about his work at Gringott's, having taken a reprieve from the magic world to pursue a degree in finances and come back ready to take the magical world by storm through investment banking. But at that exact moment Draco, who would have normally been interested to learn about security capitals, was distracted as a group of men walked into their general view and he was finally able to ask the question that had been lingering in the back of his head all evening.

"So help me to understand here, Potter dated the youngest Weasley while they were trying to get me out of prison, but he also dated that guy?" Draco asked, pointing discretely to _Marcus_ , who was laughing and looking every bit the part of a French lover from across the lawn. Theo said nothing, but quirked an eyebrow at the shift in conversation. Astoria however took the bait and, having had a front row seat to the whole thing, began explaining.

"Harry asked Ginny to be your sponsor in the spring when he was rejected and she was absolutely opposed to it and refused. They tried to stay together after that but in early June they split. It was really public and absolutely terrible," Astoria recounted, having been in Diagon Alley that day in the crowd surrounding the pair and their very public separation.

"Harry and Marcus met at a Bastille Day party and hit it off. They went out once or twice if I remember, but that would have been mid-July and then all of the pieces started falling into place for getting you released, and Harry was too distracted. Didn't help that Marcus was probably his rebound," Astoria concluded, echoing something Hermione had said the last time the two had discussed it.

"So Potter's gay?" Draco said, almost slipping and referring to Harry by his first name. He turned to Daphne for this question, trusting her to know for certain one way or another.

"Alas, no."

It was Jean-Christophe, Daphne's husband, who chimed in there. It was then that her earlier reaction, the shrug and the wink, made sense. _He's gay too!_ Pleased to have made sense of that, Draco nodded and continued examining _Marcus._

"He's not your type, Jean," Daphne joked in a quiet voice, earning a snicker from Theo and Astoria who knew very well what type their brother-in-law was. Draco felt somewhat outside the moment but he would get the references and the hidden meaning again over time. Being with people who wanted to have him back in their lives made it all alright.

. . . . .

Jean and Daphne stayed a bit longer but a cousin of Jean's came into sight and the two had to leave in the other direction, lest said cousin try and join them for the evening. Draco promised to write with a quick kiss to Daphne's cheek and then she was gone.

"You know, I had kind of hoped to see Pansy here tonight," Draco admitted to Astoria, who might have some idea where his best friend was. Astoria looked at him confused, said "She is though," and pointed over towards the main house.

Draco starred into the crowd until finally after three unsuccessful scans he found a black head of hair he had missed so much, even if it did make owning white furniture impractical. Astoria took his arm and beckoned to Theo, walking the pair of them up the lawn towards the riotous laughter that could come from only one woman.

"We all got back from Paris the night before last," Astoria was telling him, detailing how they were touring Europe as part of her engagement party and how Draco had better be at the wedding rehearsal because now that he was a free man there was no escaping being part of the wedding party now.

Draco nodded absentmindedly, more excited to see Pansy after all the time apart. That her father had so publicly condemned him at his parole hearing had him worried that she wouldn't want to be anywhere near him but Draco had to know.

"Get back here you minx."

Draco stopped walking and breathing as he watched with eyes as wide as saucers _Ron fucking Weasley_ pick up his best friend, twirled her around and kissed her face. Astoria was saying something but Draco couldn't hear it over the rushing in his ears and the thousands of questions swirling around his head. It wasn't until Hermione suddenly appeared at his side and gripped his hand tightly to pull him out of his own head that Draco could vocalize his confusion, although it came out as more of a squawk.

"How?"

Hermione laughed at the tiny voice that Draco used, which caught the attention of Ron and Pansy. Without any hesitation, Pansy untangled herself from Weasley and threw herself into Draco's arms. Hermione backed away to let the two friends reconnect and joined Ron at his side, her hand open. He grumbled and slipped a galleon into it.

"Bloody tosser couldn't have just yelled at me?" Ron muttered, watching his girlfriend hugging his childhood bully with a half-hearted scowl, crossing his arms in fake protest.

"Oh, I'm sure it will come," Hermione assured him, patting him on his elevated forearm in mock reassurance.

. . . . .

Hermione hugged Pansy briefly before dragging Ron off to find Harry, again giving Draco privacy to reconnect with his friends. He would have to be sure to thank her in the morning.

"Really, Pans? Weasley?" Draco asked, pulling his proffered arm into his and escorting her around the lawn, watching her as she responded. She looked good; she'd been spiraling badly into anxiety during Draco's sixth year, aware he was doing something but never fully clued in to his plans. Back then, she had deep lines under her eyes hidden by makeup no one else could see under but him.

Now, he couldn't see the demons in her eyes or under them.

"He's a darling so you shut it."

Draco needled Pansy into telling him more, how she could possibly settle for the youngest son of the poorest pureblooded family in the Sacred 28 but she merely replied that given his parole conditions, Draco might not be one to cast stones for money's sake.

 _Well, fuck if she isn't right._

"It was bad after you left," Pansy whispered, her usually smug disposition faltering slightly. Draco squeezed her hand and gave her the smile he only used for her, and she smiled back. "We lost Crabbe during the Battle and after we lost you to Azkaban, we lost Goyle too. It was really hard to be a Slytherin in the aftermath. Daphne signed up for an arranged marriage just to escape the country. Blaise just disappeared one day, moved back to Italy and doesn't keep in touch."

Draco nodded softly, having heard most of this already, encouraging her to keep going.

"At first I figured there was no hope for me, no one for me. You'd sneer at the volume and variety of men I took to trying to hide my pain after everything was said and done," Pansy said in a challenging tone. Draco though, from years of friendship with the witch and now weeks of shared living space with Hermione, refused to take the bait.

"And Weasley?"

Pansy sighed again. "He knew Hermione and I had become somewhat friends after Hogwarts, and one night we had drank too much in muggle London to apparate home. She called Ron because he lived nearby in their old flat and asked him to drive us home. I was so jealous that her best friend was still there, the best friend she dated and loved but wasn't with any more, but mine wasn't. After Ron dropped Hermione back off to her flat, I told him as much."

Draco could just imagine it, too: Pansy, make up running down her face because she always cried when she yelled because her body just couldn't not do both. Her hair askew because of course she was probably waving her arms around like a lunatic because she's never been a very good drinker, despite her adamant belief to the contrary.

"I woke up in his bed the next morning, a hangover potion and some water on the bedside table. Turns out I yelled until I cried and cried until I fell asleep in his car. Not knowing what to do with me, he gave me his bed and took the couch. I insisted on repaying him with brunch, if only to assuage my guilt for acting like a complete loon. I really have gotten better at holding my alcohol though," Pansy added, convincing no one.

Draco smiled softly as she started recounting her first visit to the Burrow ("Such an awful name for an ancestral home, it pretty much confirms your poverty for anyone uncertain") and Ron meeting her parents ("He admitted later that Hermione stayed up with him the whole night prior, drilling him on proper eating etiquette and pureblood traditions she'd learned from your mother"). Pansy may have chosen the poorest man she could find but she found someone who made her smile that smile only Draco used to get, and as much as it bothered him that it had to be Weasley, Draco would get used to it because Pansy deserved it.

"And so help me if you make things difficult Draco Lucius Malfoy, I will cut your manhood up like sashimi and feed it to you."

Draco winced, gulped and nodded, not doubting that she might actually try if he did.


	20. Chapter 20

_Thursday, September 13, 2001_

Draco wrote to his mother all about the evening at the embassy, mentioning his reunion with the Slytherins and the new alliances he made within the diplomatic community. Harry Potter may be treated like a faceless employee in his home country but abroad he clearly got a lot more respect, and he had been using that to leverage for Draco's freedom.

He detailed his conversation with Ambassador Edmunde Séverin and how he had almost blown it by mistaking her for her husband, which she must get a lot because of her name, but still. She had found him later in the night and the two had chatted, about the conditions in Azkaban, his recovery, how the Ministry had been treating him since.

He had powerful allies in this strange post-war world and it was all thanks for Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

He noticed as he wrote letter after letter to his mother that he mentioned them both more and more. He knew he'd had a somewhat unhealthy fixation on Potter in school but this didn't quite compare. He remembered looking at Hermione in her deep blue dress on the night of the embassy party – and even recalled fixating on her on the night of the barbecue they threw for Weasley – and not for a second did he think of her as the girl she was in school but instead admired her more for the woman she was now, the woman who had saved his life and wanted nothing from him in return.

He found he rarely compared them to the people they were as children, but as he pondered that while readying Thursday morning, he realized he never really knew them then in order to properly compare.

Wearing a respectable pair of pants and a cashmere sweater to stave off the chilling air, he went downstairs to find Harry and Hermione sitting at the kitchen nook while an old house elf busied itself around the kitchen.

"Master Malfoy!" it creaked, earning a wince from Draco, who'd yet to have his morning coffee. The small being immediately brought Draco a steaming mug of coffee, prepared just right, and ushered him to the breakfast nook with the others.

"Draco, meet Kreacher. He's come to prepare the house for Narcissa's visit this afternoon," Hermione said, her tone measured as she obviously tried her hardest to sound pleasant about the development. Harry had a smirk on his face that suggested this was something to enjoy, so Draco nodded and sipped his coffee, watching as the elf and the witch occasionally interacted, seemingly to both of their displeasure.

"Mistress Narcissa will be here shortly and Kreacher has been preparing all of the favorite breakfasts. Hazelnut Belgium waffles for Master Harry, an apple cinnamon brioche for the Master Draco, pomegranate cream crêpes for Mistress Cissa – oh how she loves Kreacher's crêpes – and fruit for Miss Granger."

Draco and Harry did everything to hold their laughter in as Hermione's eye twitched. Harry, so determined to keep the laughter in, started choking and coughing, making Draco struggle twice as hard as he thumped the man on the back but kept his laughter locked down tight.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Hermione managed to grind out, returning to her morning tea and newspaper to ignore the two men silent tearing up across from her.

They sat in agreeable silence for maybe twenty minutes before Kreacher alerted the group that Mistress Cissa would be arriving in the foyer in a moment, leading the charge himself to take her coat. Draco fidgeted nervously with the hem of his sweater, which Hermione noticed but said nothing about.

When the blonde witch did come through the floo, graceful and dressed more for an afternoon tea with nobility rather than a late breakfast with her son and his roommates, Draco wondered how he should greet his mother after all the time apart, but she acted first. As put together as she seemed, the sight of her son cracked her well practiced mask and immediately heels clicked hard on the hardwood as she crossed the length of the room and wrapped her son in her arms tightly.

"Oh my dragon," she whispered as she somehow managed to cling tighter, bringing tears to Draco's eyes. He wrapped his mother in his arms and held her tightly for a good long minute before letting go, discretely wiping at his eyes and smiling at the woman in front of him.

"Mother."

"Draco, dear. You look so much better than I could have hoped from what your letters described," Narcissa complimented, regaining her composure as she turned to Harry and Hermione, who had stepped back to give the Malfoys a moment alone together. She took Harry in her arms first, then hugged Hermione, kissing the witch on one cheek, then the other.

"Mistress Cissa, the solarium has been prepared to receive you this morning," the small elf injected, taking Narcissa's coat as she stripped it off and linked arms with Hermione. They led the way to the furthest back most room, one Draco had never noticed, which had been cleaned up by the ambitious elf. Draco took out his mother's seat at the white circular table in the centre of the room, giving her a wonderful view of the garden, while Harry and Hermione took their own, smiling at the matriarch as Draco sat down last.

He had expected that his mother would grill him, albeit discretely, from the moment she entered the house but was wrong. She spoke with Hermione for the first twenty or so minutes, of Wizengamot members and laws and of charities the two were interested in and families they were both acquainted with. At some point that French guy Harry had dated, _Marcus_ , was brought up and then the conversation shifted to focus more on Harry and how he was and how the auror department was doing and how Nymphadora was. Draco noticed that his aunt Andromeda went unmentioned and made a note to inquire later.

This all took place over coffee and tea and was briefly interrupted by Kreacher, who came into the room and announced that breakfast was ready. A simple snap of his fingers and suddenly decadent and artfully plated meals appeared on the table, equally as unfitting with the simple event as his mothers attire.

 _Is this something new or am I just noticing now?_

Kreacher, for all of his posturing and pretending to like Hermione less than the others, did more than just place fruit in a bowl for her, as Draco had secretly hoped. She received a lovely fruit tart and gave Harry and Draco looks daring them to laugh now, followed by a tight smile to the elf. Draco bit his top lip to refrain, clearly infuriating the witch.

"Draco, you said in your last letter that you had reacquainted yourself with the Greengrass girls. I've had the pleasure of seeing the older sister several times in Paris but I'd lost track of the younger one," Narcissa interrupted, prompting him to tell about Astoria's engagement with Theo Nott and how surprised he was to see so many old friends at the party last week.

"We are Slytherins, dear. We may not be as brave as our red banner counterparts but we do not run when things are temporarily difficult. We overcome them," Narcissa said, her tone even but her eyes blazing. The conversation continued on normally from there, the topics always light, and eventually Draco's anxiety began to wane.

Hermione had mentioned a book on the value of multi-lingual bonds she had ordered last week and left the table to find it. Narcissa asked Harry if he had the bank documents and family crested paperwork she would need to regain access to the Malfoy vaults now that the matter had been cleared through the goblin horde and Harry immediately excused himself to find those.

Alone with his mother and that look in her eyes, Draco felt his anxiety come back.

"They won't come back until we ask," Narcissa said, setting down her cutlery and removing the napkin from her lap, bracing herself for the yelling her son had probably bottled up over three years. Draco watched her, trying to make sense of her actions but perhaps they'd been apart for too long because he had been misreading her the whole morning.

Draco stood and walked to his mother's side, hesitating for a moment when she let out an involuntary flinch and knelt at her side. She had otherwise kept her eyes locked with his, her gaze soft and undemanding. Draco took her hand and kissed the knuckles.

"I understand," he whispered, holding her hand still as her set it back on her lap. "Mother, I'm not angry with you. I have no resentment for you, just a hole where our love used to be." A single tear trailed down Narcissa's cheek as she tightened her grip on Draco's hand. "But that's okay," he continued, unfazed. "We can learn again."

Narcissa regarded this man in her son's body but there was no sign of falsehood. She had raised a young man who, for all of his many virtues, had a temper and was prone to shouting. Narcissa had held off visiting her son because she felt he needed time to heal without her wounds and her sadness getting in the way. She thought she was coming over today to submit herself to his rage, an overdue and necessary step in his recovery, but there was nothing.

"Being away has changed you," she murmured, raising a hand and tracing along her son's face. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the intimate gesture, relieved his mother was back in his life beyond her letters. He knew she had suffered alone, as he had, and he would be there for her but yelling would do nothing to assuage his pain, so why add to hers?

"Or perhaps it is where you are now that has changed you?" Narcissa asked aloud, her viper like smile returned in full power.

Draco's eyes widened immediately in shock and scandal as his mother put to words his unspoken fears from earlier.

* * *

So sorry this chapter has taken so long! I had perfectly imagined their reunion since the day this fic was conceived but when I sat down to write it, nothing fit any more. Rewriting it was difficult, both because of the sharp departure from my original expectations and because I love Narcissa so much that I fear misrepresenting her more than anyone else. Hopefully this holds up. On the bright side, I have the next chapter more than written up (I will either half to split it in two or cut it down, but it's doneish)


	21. Chapter 21

_Wednesday, September 19, 2001_

Draco came into the kitchen that morning prepared. He and Harry had planned the whole day – Hermione's day – in advance and he knew his part. Conspiring with Harry rather than against him was a little strange but having Hermione at the centre of it helped to normalize things a bit.

They'd spent the previous Monday afternoon in a half dozen jewellery shops looking for just the right thing. Well, Draco was. Harry, who hadn't been imprisoned up until a month (almost to the date) earlier had already found the perfect gift – a weekend workshop on how to bind a book, with letters the three best friends had exchanged growing up set aside for the task.

Ron had helped with finding those old letters and tried to have this count as his gift but Harry refused to share credit and Draco didn't blame him, but it had put severe pressure on Draco to find the right gift and not just _another_ piece of jewellery.

It wasn't until Harry managed to convince Draco to consider the muggle shop recommended by the last jeweler that Draco was inspired.

It was with that gift in hand that Draco approached Hermione at the counter, pouring her morning tea, and handed her the small green box. She took it, a smirk on her lips and an eyebrow raised at the deliberate choice in colouring as she loosened the silver ribbon,opened the box and peered inside.

"Pansy has a similar one that's quite a bit older," Draco admitted, having been inspired by the memory of it. "This is something I could have given you when we were children if we had been friends then. I thought it might be a fitting gift now," he finished lamely. He was trying to convey that he thought of her as more than a roommate but all he ended up doing was telling her he thought of her as, what, a fourteen year old girl? _Pathetic._

But before he could apologize or try and do some damage control, Hermione was on her tippy toes kissing his cheek.

"I love it, Draco. And I see the wheels turning behind your eyes; don't worry. I get it," she said softly, and maybe she did because she immediately set down her tea and wrapped the thin beaded charm bracelet around before catching the clasp.

"There are only six charms for now, largely because I only liked six of them," Draco explained, pouring himself a cup of coffee as Hermione admired the detailing. There was a book, a cat, a moon, an Eiffel tower, an H, and one bead that was small diamonds designed to look like a white owl but with green eyes. Harry laughed when Draco admitted he chose it because it reminded him of Harry and thought Hermione would get it.

Judging by her smile, she did.

The charms were divided up by three glass mossy green coloured beads, leaving lots of room for Hermione to add to the bracelet if she so choose.

Harry had been roped into a court appearance related to a case he had closed months ago but would be free after three, so Draco found the omelettes Harry had made and hidden under a Stasi charm in the bread box and laid them out on the table, gesturing for Hermione to join him.

"Wow, the two of you coordinated this?" Hermione asked, watching as tendrils of steam rose from the three cheese and mushroom omelette sitting tantalizingly in front of her as she took the seat opposite Draco.

"The whole day," Draco confirmed, biting into his bacon and onion omelette with equal enthusiasm. They finished up and as Draco put the dishes into the charmed sink, Hermione grabbed her purse from its place near the kitchen door but then set it back down.

"Am I dressed appropriately for whatever it is you have planned? I don't want to be over dressed," she asked, having dressed as she normally would for a day of non-magical work: well-tailored, conservatively cut black dress with a classic beige trench coat on top. Simple jewellery, except for the bracelet which was a bit out of character. Draco merely picked up her bag and handed it to her, although he did caution her to go for the more modest heels as they finished readying. She took it they were likely going muggle, given Draco's navy blue slacks and crisp white button up.

He Apparated them away, almost throwing Hermione off the scent of their impending adventure until she took in the arrival point, which she was very familiar with. "Oh Draco," she exhaled, excitement clear in her voice. Draco smiled and took the hand closest to him and threaded it through his offered arm, walking her around the corner off of Rue De Lille and onto Rue de Bac. Within a moments' walk they were at the edge of the Seine, facing the Louvre, their destination for the better part of the day.

Draco had only seen as far as the Apparation point the day before when Harry had side-alonged him to give him his bearings, so he was properly enraptured by the well-known river, the sight of a Ferris wheel off in the distance, and the aged elegance of the gallery before them. Little did he realize, his reactions were part of his gift to Hermione today as she watched him with a soft smile and a delighted look in her eyes.

Draco regained his composure though and before they began the trek along the bridge, pulled a small camera from the white overcoat he'd donned on the way out. Hermione smiled brightly as he raised it to his face the way Harry had instructed, focused the machine, and hit the button.

"Well, you really did do your homework," she teased, taking the camera from him in order to get a photo of him as well, a trial Harry had predicted would happen. He was prepared to put the small contraption back in his pocket when a young woman who'd been walking past pulled strings out of her ears and asked Hermione if she would like her to take their picture together.

Hermione handed the woman their camera and immediately wrapped an arm around Draco's waist, making his face heat up. _Please don't let my face look red,_ he chanted repeatedly in his head as a small smile settled on his face and his arm settled across Hermione's shoulders.

"Such a smart looking couple," the woman commented with mild French accent and a dopey look on her face as she handed back the camera and took her leave. Hermione merely shrugged as Draco began to splutter lightly, taking a swift photo of his gobsmacked expression. Unwilling to lose his cool now, Draco yanked the camera free from the devious witch and again offered her his arm, guiding her to the gallery and the beginning of their day.

. . . . .

With only a brief pause for a light lunch, the two explored the museum for hours. They would have gone late into the evening, which Hermione said was one of the best times to view the grounds, if not for their dinner reservation with Harry at 6:30 p.m. They met at a lovely little French café that Hermione explained they visited every time they visited the Louvre and met Harry at a table outside.

Hermione, the keeper of the camera, snapped a photo of him.

"I thought I told you to keep a reign on her," Harry joked, tossing a half-hearted glare at Hermione as she laughed and Draco as he shrugged, pulling Hermione's chair out for her. She dimpled, as she had been all day at the observations and conversations she and Draco had had, and took her seat. They heard from Harry about the trial he'd been forced to endure and recounted parts of their day.

They dined on a half dozen French appetizers that Draco for the most part recognized and ordered a pasta dish each, paired with a wine recommended by the waiter and approved of by Draco. By the time the sun had set a little over an hour into their meal, the candles were lit and the hanging lights overhead had created a wonderful ambiance that left the three of them sitting in a comfortable silence, drinking the area in.

Their waiter came for what would be one of the last returns of the night with chocolate gateau adorned by a small candle. Hermione blushed lightly as Harry kissed her on the cheek and started singing some muggle birthday song. Draco could only watch with a bemused look on his face as Hermione struggled to keep the smirk off her face and finally, as Harry let out the last bars, turned to blow out the candle. Draco, who had summoned the camera away sometime earlier and hidden it in his coat, quickly took it out and got a shot of her leaning over, the candle lighting up her face, about to make her wish.

Draco would, several days later, make a duplicate of that photo and keep it aside where no one would find it.

The three laughed and drank a bit longer, the night creeping up on them. It was by Draco's guess close to eight o'clock when two familiar faces joined their table unannounced. Sitting between Harry and Draco were Ron and Pansy, best friends side by side.

"Harry birthday 'Mione," Ron said, immediately putting a wrapped present that was probably a book, on the table. Hermione responded by sliding what was left of her cake over, her best friend immediately lifting the fork and finishing it off.

"Just to be clear, that's only from him," Pansy said, eyeing the gift on the table somewhat disdainfully as Hermione picked it up and unwrapped it. _The Basics of Mermish_ earned a much better response from Hermione though than Draco would have guessed, Hermione dimpling once again and thanking her best friend profusely. She began flipping through the pages, not even asking Pansy what she had gotten her, already enraptured by a new book.

"Ahem," the insulted witch said, drawing the birthday girl out from her newest treasure with longing eyes. "Thank you. My gift is in here," Pansy said, bringing a lilac coloured bag up onto the table and sliding it over to the witch. Hermione took it with hesitance and peeked inside before pulling out the little black dress being gifted to her.

"It's gorgeous," she whispered, fingering the delicate lace on the shoulders, earning a smile of approval from Pansy. "It will look better _on_ you, so let's go change. I'm taking you out tonight."

Hermione looked up, starring first at Draco then Harry, both of whom smiled and nodded to let her know it was in fact a part of the plans. Hermione, so far exceedingly happy with her birthday, consented and begrudgingly left the table with Pansy to prepare for the girl night of excess drinking ahead. She gave Harry and Draco both kisses on the cheek for such a lovely and well thought out birthday.

"Now what?" Draco asked, sitting awkwardly at the table with Harry and Ron well after the women had departed. Ron revealed three tickets, although the revelation meant nothing for Draco. "Well, with Quidditch on strike this season, we've gotten into football, the muggle sport. So come on then, the match will be starting any second."

* * *

Authors note: I wasn't joking when I said that this chapter would be long, and this isn't even the edited down version. I managed to move the rest of it into the next chapter without making it necessarily a two part story, which is a fitting way to celebrate (I think) because with this chapter Silver Linings is going to hit 50,000 views and I'm just so happy that so many people are enjoying my little fic. What better chapters to mark that than with those celebrating Hermione?


	22. Chapter 22

_Wednesday and Thursday, September 20, 2001 (Very early in the morning)_

Pansy brought Hermione to a hotel room she had booked for the night, having spent Hermione's birthday treating herself to a shopping trip in Paris despite having just visited as part of Astoria's engagement celebration. Hermione had floo'd to some of the European cities as part of the engagement tour but Astoria's parents were blissfully left unaware that their little girl consorted with _that_ kind and Hermione had no problem abiding by that ignorance if it made her friends life easier.

Now, Hermione donned the tiny black lace piece Pansy had picked for her and let out a low whistle. Ever since she had let Pansy and Narcissa in and gave them free reign of her closet, she had gained an appreciation for quality pieces like this dress. Pansy had been all about gold detailing back when they first became friends which Hermione strongly opposed, but delicate lace detailing and a good pair of heels were common grounds the girls could always retreat to.

That, and politics.

"My father has been quite uncomfortable since Draco was released, which is perfectly fine with me because it's translated to his being nicer to Ron, which makes them both uncomfortable which is more fun to watch than it should be," Pansy explained as she used her wand to curl Hermione's hair.

Hermione was deliberating between two pairs of earrings she had narrowed down to and made a little 'hmm' noise, aware Perneus Parkinson was terrified that his daughter – the brilliant woman Hermione had befriended almost immediately after House affiliations became irrelevant – might fall back into the arms of her one-time boyfriend and long-time best friend.

After the war had ended and Perneus came to terms with the fact that he would never have a son, he took a good look at his daughter. While his wife moaned on and on that Pansy lacked the proper motivation needed to find a good husband, Perneus found a killer politician in need of guidance. He took her in and found her a position as a Wizengamot aide, walked her through the family vaults and explained all their earnings, and officially named her as his heir. She had her own personal portfolio and vaults, which she had to her father's immense pride grown by a respectable 40% in two years through smart investments.

In twenty years she would take his Wizengamot seat, but she wasn't waiting until then.

When she started dating Ron, Perneus thought it was purely for the optics; the woman who had offered up Harry Potter to the Dark Lord now dating said savior's best friend. When he found out his daughter had legitimately fallen for the impoverished pureblood, he hemmed and he hawed. All of his work to build Pansy up into the son he never had, ruined! Then one night Ron admitted over a man's only nightcap that while it is a bit of a radical lefty position, he would be happy to stay at home and raise the children. Pansy was a woman with drive and he wouldn't stop her from ruling the world. Hell, with five older brothers, he also wouldn't oppose to giving one of their imaginary, someday children the Parkinson name.

Perneus nearly wrote up the betrothal contract for the two then and there.

"We had a _very_ long talk about his treatment of Draco in court," Pansy went on, switching from the left side of Hermione's head to the right, "And set him straight. Draco and I are as likely to get back together as you and Ron are." Pansy said, laughing when Hermione unwittingly made a sour face.

"I know far too much about your sex life to condone this conversation continuing in any capacity," Hermione muttered, opting for the sapphire earrings and grabbing the black clutch Pansy had at some point stolen from her bedroom.

"Come on, let's go."

Pansy had chosen a club the two had been two a few times before in Paris. It was Luna's dyed head of pink hair that caught their attention first, drawing them to the table occupied by her, both Greengrass sisters, Padma Patil, and several of the women Hermione and Pansy knew through their dealings at the Ministry, from administrative services to diplomatic relations to legal affairs.

Pansy was using Hermione's birthday as a front for some negotiation or other, but Hermione supported her entirely and ordered them both a glass of wine while Pansy made the requisite _hellos_ on the far side of the table.

Hermione spent most of the night with her, Daphne, Astoria, and Padma only chiming in with the others when Pansy would include her for some thing or another. By around midnight the ministry types left, and Pansy returned her full attention to the remaining girls.

"Finally. Now let's get this witch wrecked."

. . . . .

All the while that was happening, Draco watched a football match with Ron and Harry. Ron had made it his personal mission to instruct Draco on the rules of the sport but Harry had informed Draco on their way into the stadium that Ron's grasp was fairly loose, and so it began that every time Ron explained what was happening wrongly, Harry would drink and so Draco would drink. By the twenty minute mark, both wizards were giggling whenever Ron said 'balls', and the rest of the night was spent with Ron trying to catch up and all three men erupting into loud cheers whenever it seemed something had happened.

They were too far gone by the end of the night, so Harry suggested flooing home from a local pub that had an open connection. They ended up in the library where Draco collapsed onto a sofa. Harry only made it as far as a few feet down the hall from the library door before he found a square of carpet that looked extra inviting and crumped against the wall to doze off into a sound sleep.

It was like that that Hermione found Draco around two in the morning as she stumbled in through the same grate, her makeup largely faded from a night out and her curls lacking their earlier bounce. Her calm disposition ruined, her face grew hot as she became suddenly enraged with the blond on the couch.

"Why did you give me the bracelet?" Hermione demanded, her voice much higher than necessary as she shook Draco awake. He jumped immediately, not much of a heavy sleeper, and rubbed at his tingling face while he tried to make sense of what the witch was going on about.

"The bracelet!" she yelled again when he didn't have an immediate answer, shoving said birthday gift under his nose.

"Pansy recognized it and said she had a similar one at home, said you had spent hours picking just four charms for hers that you even liked but _mine has six_. Why would you do all of this…" and at this point Hermione fell forward onto her knees, tired and losing her will to fight, "do all of this for me?"

Draco rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands, trying to make sense of the situation he'd woken up to. Hermione was clearly drunk, if not evident from her random tirade than by her lack of volume control, and clearly mad at him.

"You give me this bracelet and tell me that we're friends but you couldn't stand me when we were children. You were the first of a very long list of people who were cruel to me and made me question whether or not I even deserved magic," Hermione whispered, visibly on the brink of tears. She had been walking on eggshells for weeks, waiting for them to collide or for their tentative peace to crumble around them and their old animosity to resume.

"You don't get to just decide for yourself that we're friends."

Draco gulped and looked up at the witch but she wasn't as angry looking as she had been once she realized Draco was asleep in the library. She looked wounded and broken and Draco figured this was what he got for not saying something sooner.

"I've needed to apologize to you for weeks now for how I treated you when we were kids. I know that. I've just been… avoiding it, honestly, because I couldn't figure out how. I would have just mucked it up," Draco said, reaching a hand out and grabbing Hermione's as she wiped at her nose, her eyes fulled tears she refused to cry.

"I don't give a fuck, Draco! I deserved to hear it anyways!" Hermione shouted, again losing control of her volume.

Draco slipped off the couch to kneel in front of Hermione, who had a single tear working its way along her nose. He wrapped his arms around her, having learned over weeks of living with her, that she preferred physical interaction.

"I'm sorry for hurting you when we were young. I was the worst person you knew for years and I never apologized for how horrid I was, even after you saved me. But I don't think I made the decision by myself to be friends with you, so I hope you don't make the decision by yourself to end our friendship. I'll be better in the future, I promise."

Hermione sniffled and nodded, resting her head on Draco's shoulder and calming down as she listened to him breathing. When it became clear one of them was going to fall asleep sitting that way, Draco tugged her until they were both standing and walked her to her room. She gave him a smile and a nod, answering the question he didn't quite ask in the library, and went into her room.

Draco walked into his room feeling lighter than he had in days.


	23. Chapter 23

_Thursday, October 4, 2001_

Draco had sent Minerva McGonagall a thank you note shortly after his parole hearing in September. She responded with well wishes and inquired to his health. He responded and followed up by asking about the condition of the building, which he had seen crumble around him. They continued correspondences until October when Minerva, as she insisted on being referred to, invited him to the school but wouldn't clarify why.

Harry offered to tag along if Draco was afraid of the old Transfiguration master but Draco declined. He and Harry Apparated to Hogsmeade together that morning, the latter insisting he was meeting with a friend for a late breakfast at the Three Broomsticks. Draco shrugged and trotted toward the castle, surprised when Neville Longbottom of all people met him at the gate.

"Well. Minerva said you were coming in today but I had to see it to believe it," he said, offering his hand. Draco shook it, regarding the blond Gryffindor hesitantly. He had bullied Neville far worse than anyone else but the man seemed perfectly content in his presence. He was about to ask about that when it hit him that the young professor must have been in the loop on what Harry and Hermione had been up to, in freeing and housing Draco during his parole.

"You can find your own way to the Headmistresses tower? I'm headed in to town to meet with Harry," Neville said, nodding to Draco when he said yes, and walking away without much ado. Perhaps six years of torment were not so easily forgotten.

 _Guess I'll probably have to apologize to him too at some point._

By 10:30 a.m, Draco was at the gargoyle statue and at a loss for the password.

"Yes?" the gargoyle inquired, his face slowly animating.

"Oh. Yes, well, I have an appointment with the Headmistress. Could you let her know that I'm here?" Draco inquired, watching as the gargoyles face went back to solid stone. He waited, counting slowly in his head, when at 20 seconds the face reanimated and the gargoyle moved to the side to let Draco climb the stairs to the headmistress's office.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," welcomes Minerva as the blond wizard let himself in to the main room. He had seen it a handful of times throughout his school years but it was quite different now from how Dumbledore had kept it. There were less swirling, glittering trinkets of unknown origins or uses and somehow more books. Several globes could be seen of various ages, some he imagined hundreds of years old.

"Good morning ma'am," he replied, taking the seat in front of her desk hesitantly, uncertain for her motives for summoning him but interested in finding out. After his well-publicized sixth year, he never expected to be allowed to see the inside of Hogwarts again.

"Now, I imagine you're curious why I've asked you to come in today. I wanted to talk about your N.E.W.T schedule. I was going over your transcripts and reviewing your O. —"

Draco raised a hand and interrupted with a sharp "My what sorry?" that silenced McGonagall, who gave a scathing look at being so rudely interrupted. Draco didn't care though. He had to work thirty hours a week already, give or take, as well as do community service.

Hermione had found him a muggle community to get some work in, which the Prophet had had a field day with. They called him a baby killer and a racist alongside photos of him serving food to the homeless and painting an old school building with other volunteers.

There was no way he could disappear for a year, no community service hours completes and no public humiliation at the Ministry, to study for his N.E. .

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, your N.E. . I should think that you were coming today with hopes of persuading me to allow you to take them," she said crisply, watching as the wheels turned in Draco's head. He hadn't been explicitly barred from taking the exams – just from entering the school, but even that had been overturned – but he was pretty sure the Ministry would have an issue with his being properly educated.

"They'll never allow it," he answered, not needing to clarify whom. McGonagall snorted, an undignified sound that made Draco smirk and his brow snap up, and picked up the quill at the right of her desk. "They have no authority here and no power to stop me from allowing you to study from home and come in for necessary assignments and exams."

Draco fell back into his seat, not having noticed how far up he had lurched forward throughout the conversation, and began thinking through the possibilities. McGonagall watched, very pleased to see the idea taking root in his mind, as she began making notes on the margins of his transcripts.

"Given your work with Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter, I would recommend taking some if not all of the relevant coursework for those careers, if only for your own safety and success. However, if you have ideas for what you will pursue in two years' time, I recommend factoring those requirements in as well."

Draco nodded, his mind elsewhere. He wanted to get into politics and as long as the current government was in power, he had no chance of that. Still, nothing to say he couldn't go abroad or work within the diplomatic community, which has proven itself to be rather influential and partial towards him.

"Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defence and History to start with then," he muttered, noting the pleased hum McGonagall made as she wrote those down. "And if I were interested in taking a course I had not done my OWL in, say Ancient Runes, what would be the protocol?"

McGonagall was borderline beaming now, having at best imagined that she could trick and coerce the Slytherin into resuming studies in at least Potions and Charms, but six courses? She was going to be very rich thanks to the faculty pool on today's meeting.

"In theory, you would get a tutor and do the first three years study while doing N.E.W.T prep for the other courses, and then do the final exam for it a year after your first round of N.E. . Of course, given your situation, I propose tackle this schedule a bit differently."

Together, the two discussed the work he was doing through the Auror department and how much he contributed to Hermione's curse breaking. They worked out a schedule that put his exams for Charms, Transfiguration and Defence for the spring, counting much of his work through the Auror department as the practical assignments, then shift the focus to History and Potions for the summer sitting. Runes would be a constant lesson plan, and they would judge his progress by the summer in determining his O.W.L and N.E.W.T exams.

"Professor, thank you. I really can't begin to–"

"Then don't, Mr. Malfoy. We're not done here yet."

Draco's brow furrowed as he watched the old witch stand and gesture for him to as well. They left her office together, her saying nothing and Draco just following because she'd said to.

"I saw the article in the Daily Prophet about your community service. It was very clever to go to a muggle community," McGonagall began, leading Draco towards the main staircase.

"Hermione was the one who thought of it. I swear, when it comes to winning an inch over the Ministry, she has a list of antics at the ready," Draco muttered, noting the proud smile McGonagall couldn't seem to hide. _Of course she would have a soft spot for Hermione._

"Indeed. I wonder whether having you work at Hogwarts will top that?"

Draco stopped walking mid staircase and looked at the headmistress, flummoxed. He had never been one of her darlings and while she was never unfair towards him, this scheming on her behalf was starting to unsettle him. Worse, that he couldn't have predicted any of this made him quite uncomfortable.

"Working at Hogwarts?" He echoed for clarification. McGonagall nodded and continued to lead the way to what Draco now figured out were the dungeons. They entered the potions lab and found Horace Slughorn chortling to himself as he wrote what was likely a personal letter. McGonagall cleared her throat and suddenly all eyes were on her.

"Ah, Draco my boy!" erupted the potions master, setting his quill down and standing to greet his visitors. Draco followed McGonagall in and shook the old man's hand, waiting for an answer to his earlier question.

"My proposition for you, Mr. Malfoy, would work two-fold. I would like to employ you, as a means of completing your community service hours, as a special aide to Professor Slughorn. One of his duties has long been brewing many of the common potions Madam Pomfrey uses most in the hospital wing. You would see to those responsibilities, perhaps four hours a week. It would also count towards your N.E.W.T," Minerva explained, a small smile on her face as Draco's usually impassive face betrayed his interest in the idea.

"You'll be doing your N.E.W.T then? Bravo!" Slughorn exclaimed, clapping Draco on the back. Minerva nodded, and told the two men that unless there were any problems with the arrangement, she would leave them to work out the details and get them from Slughorn in the evening.

Once she left, Slughorn indicated Draco should take his seat.

"I'm very happy that you've come to see me, my boy, very happy indeed," Slughorn began, oblivious to the look of distaste that flashed across Draco's face and then quickly disappeared. "Of course, things were a bit touch and go there with all that Death Eater business but with that behind us, there's just so much potential on the horizon. You'll have a chance to rebuild the Malfoy empire," said Slughorn.

Draco remembered the sting of embarrassment at being ignored when Slughorn returned to Hogwarts, denied from the infamous Slug club because of the mark on his arm, barred from parties and for the first time not being one of the elite few despite the illustrious Malfoy name that Slughorn was suddenly so interested in. Slughorn, however, seemed happy to pretend that snub had never happened.

"Of course you're already working on that, though, aren't you my boy? Oh yes, alliances with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger can do a lot for a man these days. I have of course kept in touch with them both over the years. Oh yes, Ms. Granger always sends me a note when she intends to publish something in Potions Monthly, always interested in my take on the matter..."

Despite having wanted to be coveted by Slughorn as a young man, hearing the old coot talk now set something off in Draco that made him uneasy. He resolved not to let the potions master 'collect' him, and as he left the dungeon after a half an hour of the old windbag go on and on, wondered at what point he became uncomfortable with the idea of Harry or Hermione as simply allies.


	24. Chapter 24

_Wednesday, October 18, 2001_

Whenever Draco left home, he was usually with either Hermione or Harry or one of his friends. Theo, Astoria and Pansy had become regular fixtures in his life and their home, and it made him feel considerably less like a convict out on loan and more like a real human being. Sometimes he would floo to their houses instead or meet them in Diagon Alley for lunch.

Hogwarts was a quick floo away and Draco was generally left to his own devices in a small room on the main floor where he would brew in private and confer with the professors of the exams he was taking first on his study schedule.

Today, Draco was alone and had nothing in particular he needed to do. Hermione was on lock down to finish an article for Transfiguration Monthly that she'd committed to and Harry was with Teddy Lupin, his godson and Draco's cousin. The two had met the month before but despite everyone's hopes, something about the blonde scared Teddy and the two couldn't be in the same room without the toddler screaming his head off.

So, Harry was with him and Draco was alone. And starving.

 _Quick kip into the Leaky, a stop at the Apothecary and maybe a peek into Obscurus and then I'll come straight home._

Draco took the floo and arrived at the quiet pub. It was just after the usual lunch hour crowd finished up so only three or four tables were occupied. Draco found a small booth in the back and ordered his lunch with a pint and settled in. Tom the barkeep delivered the drink and food without a smile, but he also didn't sneer, so Draco chalked it up as a win and bit in.

He didn't notice the whispers by wizards and witches across the room, but they were only whispers anyway.

When he finished with his meal, he walked to the bar and paid directly, leaving enough of a tip to maybe warrant a smile from the old man in another month or two, and made his way to the back alley. _Three up, two across_.

The alley was rather full for the middle of the day, but Draco tried not to linger long. While his robes were fairly regular, a dark green with black toggles, his trademark Malfoy hair was bound to draw attention if he loitered too long. He slipped into the dimly lit, musty shop and got the beetle eyes he'd run out of and some salamander blood because it was on for a good price. The shop keep gave him a small smile, one that encouraged Draco, who grabbed some dried billywigs to boot because they were close to the counter and were not on for a very good price. His wares in hand, Draco returned to the Alley and looked around.

It was a gorgeous sunny Wednesday afternoon and the crowd had thinned somewhat, so Draco could take a moment to enjoy the smell of the candied apples from the cart several feet away and the sight of varied colour leaves swirling around in the wind. Smiling softly, he decided a quick trip to Scribbulus Writing for a treat quill wasn't out of line.

The proud owner of a lovely new peacock quill, Draco made his way down the road to Obscurus books, feeling better about his trip out alone than he had since he decided to do it. He was sure if he detailed the accomplishment to Hermione, she'd be willing to cook him more of that delicious pasta from the other night. Humming, he entered the bookshop and peeked through the aisles, finding two books – one he was recommended and one he thought Hermione might like – and went to the desk. This shop keeper was less kind than the last two, refusing to smile to Draco who kept a nervous smile plastered to his face, and wrapping the books up shoddily before pushing them at Draco and waving at him to leave.

Refusing to let his good mood be ruined by the shop keeper entirely in his right to be afraid or angry or maybe both, Draco thanked him and left. He walked to the middle of the road and stood for a moment, deciding if he wanted to Apparate, floo, or maybe try his luck with walking. He could always slip into an alley along the way if he got tired or lost and who knew when he would next have a quiet afternoon alone like this again?

"Hey you, Death Eater!"

Draco turned around and found a group of twenty or so come at him, some with brooms and one man with what appeared to be a pitchfork. Draco was pretty sure he wouldn't be stabbed in broad daylight but didn't really want to take that chance.

"Who do you think you are, baby killer?!"

More people came rushing from the far side and before Draco could make a break for it, he was effectively surrounded. The people around him were jeering for the most part, some swearing. Over the heads of several short witches, Draco could see someone take their kids and walk in the other direction, away from the fracas.

"My husband was Ernie Halloran, did you kill him?" one woman demanded, forcing her way to the front of the crowd with an expression torn between disgust, fear, and hope.

"What? I – no, I never knew your husband," Draco answered, immediately asked by a half dozen others about their loved ones and if he didn't do it then did he know who did. Draco tried to apologize and make his way through the crowd when one man full body thrusted Draco to the ground, spitting on him as he felt his shoulder crunch against the cobblestones.

"Please, I just want to know what happened to my baby girl!"

Draco couldn't handle all these people yelling, their hope and disgust being thrown at him as they tried to find out about missing children and dead relatives. He stayed on the ground, his beetles spread out in front of him and the wrapping on his books undone. The screaming intensified when he stopped answering their questions, chanting to himself from the ground that they'll leave, when the kicking started.

"Oi! You lot, what the hell is going on here? Get out of here!"

Draco had covered his head by this point, afraid to move a muscle as a throbbing in his lower chest started to affect his breathing. He didn't see the sparks being launched over his head but he did hear the canon like explosion that followed, and slowly sense the crowd around him disperse. He kept his head down and waited until all there was left were the regular alley noises, owls hooting and robes rustling as people walked past. He finally braved a peek and found Ginny Weasley sitting cross legged on the ground beside him.

"Oh, of all the people I would save from an angry mob," she muttered, resting her cheek on her fist, her elbow propped up on her knee. Draco rolled onto his hands and knees, trying to take inventory of his injuries and figure out how he had shut down earlier so that it wouldn't happen again next time. _Luna's going to have a field day with this tomorrow._

He could feel a loose rib move and let out a sharp hiss from the pain, which led to a fit of coughs that sputtered blood onto the cobblestone.

"Holy, you just let them have you, huh?" Ginny asked, watching him from her spot at his side, doing nothing to help.

Draco shot the contemptuous witch a glare as he fought to catch his breath, eventually working his way up to his knees. With his wand hand barely shaking, he used some of the minor healing spells he felt confident using on himself and turned to address Weasley, noticing she had grabbed the books he'd just bought and was reading the back covers.

" _Plumbing the depths of Mermish conjugation_? Think you can get away from your past if you join the merpeople?" she taunted, turning towards the second book. Draco rolled his eyes, evaluating whether or not the beetles were worth repackaging or if he should just cut his losses and get more later.

"It's actually for Hermione. Ron got her a book on the basics of Mermish but she's been complaining it doesn't cover the written language well enough for her to grasp it or some such nonsense," Draco answered, pleased to find that his quill and the other potion ingredients were unscathed. He reached out and took the Mermish book from the young red haired woman and waited as she finished reading the back of the other.

" _Pride and Prejudice_? Guessing this one is for Hermione too, because I still have her copy. Thinking she doesn't expect me to ever give it back," Ginny assumed, her tone belying the hurt underneath "It's good. I finished it last week," she added as an afterthought.

"Actually it's for me. Hermione said it's one of her favorites but she lent her copy out, so I figured I would get my own. But shut up because I don't want to hear about how it's a romance novel again."

Ginny looked up at Draco and just stared at him. He felt like he was in Luna's office, having given a half answer he knew Luna wouldn't be entirely satisfied with. But this wasn't his Mind Healer. This was Harry's ex-girlfriend and Ron's little sister and as much as Draco wanted to hate her for lobbying for him to rot in prison, he didn't really blame her.

 _Huh, how's that for empathy. Maybe Luna will shut up about my callous disregard for the supporting cast members in my life._

"You're different than I remember."

Draco raised a delicate eyebrow, not really sure what he was supposed to say to that.

"I went to prison because I was willing to do anything to keep my mother alive, Weasley. Sorry if I'm not the villain you had hoped for."

She glared at him after that, handing him back his book and watching as he slid it carefully into his bag with a slight wince as he rolled his bruised wrist in the wrong direction. The ginger climbed up to her feet and waited, watching as Draco did the same, albeit slower.

"Want to get coffee?" Ginny blurted, looking down the alley and away from Draco.

He looked at her, seeing how uncomfortable she looked at the prospect but determined to see it through. Replaying her earlier comments, his best guess was that she finally missed her friends enough to stuff her pride, although seeing Draco get beaten down by an angry mob probably helped.

"Sure," he replied with a sigh, and tucked his bag under his arm and followed her as she led the way.

* * *

Authors note: Good news, this chapter is being posted early because bad news, I'm going to be otherwise distracted by work and personal things for the next few days so there will be a small gap in our regular programming but the chapter after this one is 90% done so that will be easy enough to finish and post whenever I find myself some time.


	25. Chapter 25

_Wednesday, October 18, 2001_

Ginny walked two feet ahead of Draco as they made their way through Diagon Alley and onto Charring Cross Road. Draco paused long enough to take off his robes and stow them away in his bag, revealing jeans and a quality grey cardigan. Ginny wasn't expecting that.

She peeked over her shoulder from time to time, expecting to see an unsettled man shrinking away from the throngs of muggles as they crossed the street and walked two blocks down for Ginny's favorite café but was disappointed there too. Draco Malfoy seemed relatively at ease as he followed her at her chosen distance, smirking when he caught her peeking back.

She said nothing the whole way, her head held high.

They found a pair of seats by the window at the café and Ginny gestured for Draco to order first when the server asked what they wanted. He ordered a coffee – two milks, no sugar – and a slice of lemon cake. Ginny, hoping to see the pureblood scion trip up, mumbled out a request for a pot of earl grey and whatever their freshest scone is. She tilted her head somewhat to the side and surveyed the bitter blond, noticing how he took his coffee but saying nothing.

"It was weird when we noticed the first time too," Draco muttered, thanking the server with a smile when she brought over their drinks and snacks.

They sat in silence, Draco waiting to hear why he was sitting here, and Ginny looking for the words. She'd had more than enough words when she was whining to her mother and no shortage when Pansy stomped into her flat months ago and the two had the fight of their lifetime. Hermione had tried to talk to Ginny but Ginny wouldn't spend her words on her friend, who for everything Ginny had said in the past few months, had handled her petulance with grace.

 _Sometimes I miss the Hermione who would yell and scream and run off crying. Much easier to win when your opponent flies off in a huff._

They had argued a lot when the idea of rescuing Draco was first brought up. Ginny voted no, but her vote meant nothing. Hermione had the idea in her head and even when the fight to free Malfoy killed her relationship with Ron, Hermione could not be swayed. That she somehow perverted Harry to her side and _Weasley's be damned_ turned Ginny firmly against the muggleborn.

But Ron was still her best friend. George still met with her for coffee every few weeks, running complex spell weaving ideas and potion combinations past the witch related to his latest hi-jinks. Her dad and Percy were still among her greatest friends in the Ministry. The only Weasley to take offense to any of it was Ginny, and her mother who was only offended on Ginny's behalf.

But the more Ginny repeated her slanders, the more childish they sounded. When her mother would echo many of the same sentiments, dismayed that Harry would consort with _another man_ and that Draco would have _the gall_ to show his face in public, Ginny could feel her stomach churn. It ruffled her feathers but for the longest time she was too angry to make sense of why.

"How are they?" Ginny finally asked, forcing herself to look Malfoy square in the eyes. He matched the look, wondering if this was some sort of misguided Gryffindor attempt at uncovering information.

"Harry is with my cousins today. You'll be happy to know that Teddy can't even stand to be in the same room as me," Draco explained, and it did in fact bring a small smile to Ginny's face.

"Hermione is surrounded in a fort of Transfiguration books, finishing up on an article she had actually forgotten about. She promised something to the editor weeks ago and he owled her yesterday saying he can't wait to see what she's arguing this time. So now she's more or less dead to the rest of us until she finishes a draft," Draco explained, enjoying the way Hermione's nowadays calm curls reverted back to their previously frazzled, uncontrollable rage.

"Is her hair getting ridiculous?" Ginny asked with a tentative, noticing the hint of a smile on Draco's face. He merely nodded and took a long sip from his coffee.

Ginny settled back into her seat and thought of her friends. She hadn't seen any of them since she declared civil war. She missed Luna and Astoria especially, but Hermione had been one of her first girlfriends and her rock for much of her adolescence. She was one of the few people who never forgot that Ginny still had nightmares of waking up with chicken blood drenching her clothes and the feeling of something slithering in her soul.

"Why am I here, Weasley?" Draco asked. He didn't raise his voice or have anything in his tone to suggest he was accusing her of anything.

"Weasley, am I? Noticed you use Ron and Hermione and Harry's names, but I'm still just Weasley, huh?" Ginny asked, her tone humorous as she delayed while trying to figure out an answer. Draco merely shrugged, watching as her smile failed to reach her eyes and she bit the corner of her bottom lip.

"It's taken a bit of getting used to but Ron's a good man at his core. He hated me when we were kids and for good reason, but he's been fair to me since I came to live with Harry and Hermione. He didn't have to. You've proven that much," Draco added at the end, his tone borderline spiteful. He tore a chunk of his lemon cake free and chewed it slowly, watching as the ginger across from him flinched slightly.

"I don't regret saying no," she immediately responded, her voice even and unrepentant. "I had been vocal from the beginning about leaving you in there to rot and not only did they ignore me but they asked me to be your get out of jail free card? And then treat me like the enemy when I hold my ground and say no? No, I have no regrets there."

Draco said and did nothing. He could perfectly imagine Hermione, so focused on her appeal, that she didn't notice anyone arguing against her. He could perfectly imagine Harry expecting Ginny to set aside her hate or anger just because 'it's the right thing to do' and be _utterly shocked_ when she denied him.

 _We aren't all heroes._

"I don't blame you for not wanting to chain yourself down with me. I wouldn't have in your position. I do take some point with you tearing Hermione down to your family as if she hasn't been a part of it for years, but that's rather rich coming from me," Draco admitted, shrugging lightly as Ginny smirked. She looked up from her scone, torn apart to crumbs but no part eaten, and with a sigh resigned to the idea that Draco Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater. At least not really.

They were never exactly known for their self-deprecating humor.

"Yeah, well I know I've been a shit. Knowing is the first step, right? You've got loads of experience there."

Draco smirked and bowed his head, agreeing.

"Knowing you're an arse and pulling your head out of one are two different tasks though. I'm learning that the slow way," Draco admitted, suddenly remembering his gasp of indignation when Luna suggested he pull his head out of his arse during a particularly terse session.

Ginny couldn't help but separate this man from the boy he had been growing up. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin prince and pureblood darling, had been all cold, sharp angles and cruel insults on repeat. This man was less angular, less rigid, and somehow more pensive. Not so black and white.

"You're different now, from what you were before. I wonder how much of that came from your prison sentence," Ginny asked, conceding that he maybe wasn't the monster she had labelled him as but instead had grey matter to him.

"Things changed for me years before I was locked away like an animal, Weasley," Draco admitted in a low tone, looking around swift to make sure no one was in listening distance. "Who wouldn't you kill if it meant the most powerful dark wizard in the world would stop torturing your mother? What would you be willing to do if it meant getting your father out of prison?"

Ginny didn't answer, and Draco didn't expect her to.

"Hermione and the others were brought to my house in that last year, just a few weeks before the final battle," Draco said, shifting the narrative away from rhetorical questions. Ginny nodded, having heard all of the details from the trio and from her brother and sister-in-law in the months that followed. "I stood there, watching, as my aunt tortured Hermione. It felt like it went on for hours but it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. At one point Hermione coughed up blood on the floor and it was bright red. And I had honestly up until that moment thought that her blood would look different from mine."

Draco was speaking just above a whisper at this point, his expression heavy with regret.

"I wasn't just stupid at 11. I was cruel. I made one of the most powerful witches of our generation wonder if she _deserved_ magic. It's a fucked up twist of fate that she would decide I deserve more than prison after everything I put her and the rest of the world through."

Ginny nodded, privately happy to know Malfoy at least agreed with her. If she'd have been told weeks ago she would find middle ground with Draco Malfoy and find solace in that, she would have jinxed the messenger. Now it was a kind of tentative truce. She would never be the pure hearted heroine Harry wanted but seriously, no one was. She was done resenting him for expecting better from her and done hating herself for not being it.

 _Maybe if I'm lucky Harry'll fall madly in love with Malfoy. Now that would be worth the price of admission._

Ginny snorted at her internal dialogue, earning a raised eyebrow from Malfoy, but she shook her head and waved her hand, ignoring him. She waved for the server and ordered them a second round of drinks and asked the blond if he's been flying much since he got sprung, and the two started working to find mutual grounds.


	26. Chapter 26

_Saturday, October 27, 2001_

Ginny had reached a tentative truce with Draco, and from there she reached out to Hermione for the lunch date she had cancelled on over the summer. She and Harry had yet to speak to each other but Hermione came back from Fair Fortune reporting that Ginny was definitely over wanting to be the next Lady Potter.

Harry had been invited over to the Burrow to speak with Mr. Weasley about a bill he was proposing and came home smiling triumphantly. Arthur reported that Ginny was slowly coming back to her old self, rooting through Daily Prophets for flat listings and writing again for the weekend edition. She wasn't moping around anymore and she had definitely stopped going on about traditional values and marrying Harry, although he said that had started happening gradually a while ago.

To celebrate his daughter returning to normal, the patriarch invited Harry, Hermione and Draco over for dinner with the family.

Hermione decided to err on the side of caution and pick up a bottle of wine before the three were set to Apparate over. Draco, having had similar reservations, had with him a large bouquet of flowers. Hermione smirked at the sight but didn't tease Draco for his chosen armour.

They would have been much more nervous if they'd realized the dinner was to celebrate Molly's birthday, which was mid next week but being celebrated early while all the kids could visit.

"They're here!" erupted a small voice with a giggle as the three arrived in a field, Draco holding Hermione's hand for guidance. A small blonde child dashed through the grass, her radiant blonde curls trailing behind her as she raced them to the rook shaped home in the distance, long colourful streamers trailing behind her. Hermione explained that Victoire, at only two and a half years old, was the first of the grandchildren and thankfully the only one fully mobile, which Draco took to be a small blessing.

Several red headed men came out from the side of the house where they'd been playing to greet the trio, and by some miracle none of them openly resenting Draco. He shook hands with Arthur and thanked him for including him when making the invitation, making the older man smile bashfully and say it was nothing. Bill Weasley was holding his youngest child, a little girl not even a year old, gurling and making noises as she chewed on what looked like a spatula, but he nodded to Draco who nodded back.

George Weasley approached Draco hesitantly, one hand clasping the opposite elbow as the other rubbed the back of his neck, Percy firmly at his side. They shook hands and George let Draco know right away that he knew it wasn't him who had killed his brother. Draco promised yet again that he didn't but thanked the Weasley for saying it none the less. From there, Harry and Arthur went into the house to let Molly and the rest know that they'd arrived and left Draco to talk with Percy while Hermione hugged the final Weasley brother who came out from the shed, scars and dirt stains all up his arms.

"Oh Hermione!" Molly screeched, flying from her home and out into the yard to embrace the young witch. Perhaps she didn't know that Hermione was aware the matriarch had sided heavily against her in the rift between Harry and Ginny or perhaps it didn't matter, but Molly Weasley held Hermione like a long lost child – until she spotted Draco behind his bouquet of flowers.

"Filth! What is he doing here!" she shouted, removing herself from Hermione immediately and taking several steps back, her wand trained on the former Death Eater.

"Calm down, mum. Dominique's right here," Bill cautioned, reminding Molly of her precious grandchild while trying to diffuse the tension.

"Bill, take her inside, this instant!"

But the curse breaker stood his ground, his daughter laughing obliviously in his arms, pleading with his eyes for his mother to calm down. But she refused to lower her wand.

Draco, his face blanched and his hands trembling slightly, was instantly back to the day in Diagon Alley when the families of the deceased flocked him, demanding answers for their dead and missing children and friends. He knew he wasn't the one who had finished off Fred Weasley but the rumour had been started and Molly, a distraught mother, refused to believe anything to the contrary. Draco shrank from her as he shrank away from the others before, wanting more than anything to just curl up on the ground and hide.

"How dare you bring him into my home," Molly seethed, turning slightly to address Hermione, who stood with her hands on her hips, one still gripping the bottle of wine she had brought as a peace offering. She scoffed, prepared to launch into a lengthy defence and admonition, when Harry and Arthur poked their heads outside and saw what was happening.

"Mollywobbles, it's alright! I told them to bring him," Arthur said, walking up to his wife's side and placing a reassuring arm across her shoulders. In a huff she shook his arm off and trained her wand on him, a deathly look in her eye.

"And what made you think that would in any circumstance that would be alright? He slaughtered our son!" she shrieked, leading Dominique Weasley to break into tears in her father's arms, drawing the attention of all the adults. Bill took his daughter inside, not wanting to leave the scene outside less his mother fly off the handle and actually attack the poor kid but once Dominique started wailing, it would take intensive coddling for her to be quieted.

Charlie walked over to Draco, taking one side as Percy stood firmly on the other. George just watched his mother with the same sad eyes he had whenever she would talk about Fred. Most of the family had come around to Harry and Hermione's point of view on the issue of the Malfoy's but Molly had long since refused to acknowledge that any circumstance could make it okay to do what he did, and the sheer possibility that he was the one who took away Fred made his mere presence unbearable.

"Boys, come over here now," Molly demanded, fixing her wand back on Draco, who stood uncomfortably with his flowers as his defence. None of the Weasley's moved, Hermione and Harry joining them and stood in Molly's direct line of fire. "Mum, keep your hair on, he's armed with flowers for Pete's sake," tried George as he moved towards his mother with a mollifying tone but it seemed even he could not distract Molly from her rage.

"I will not allow him into my home," Molly responded resolutely, finally dropping her wand but sending glares around to every person defending Draco before locking eye with him. "You are not and never will be welcome here. You are a monster that ruined my family and so many others, and _they_ should have left you to rot in Azkaban. It was better than you deserved."

And with that she left, walking back inside and slamming the door as she did. George broke the awkward silence first with a loud groan and turned to apologize to Draco at the same time Percy started to. Both started laughing, which helped Draco relax despite the words 'better than you deserved' bouncing around in his head with increasing volume and intensity. Arthur immediately apologized to Harry and Hermione, then again to Draco specifically. Charlie took the opportunity to properly introduce himself.

No one seemed to know what to do next.

They were interrupted by a loud and sudden crack, revealing Ron, Pansy and Ginny. The latter two were in a heated argument that was quelled with a single look at the group standing outside the Burrow. Ron, the first to guess from the looks his brothers were sending him, groaned loudly as well.

Hermione filled them in quickly, Pansy taking the bouquet of flowers still clutched in Draco's hands, and set them on the ground to properly hug her traumatized friend. Ginny looked around, watching as Harry and Hermione exchanged concerned looks and silent messages to catching her father speak in hushed and hurried tones with Percy and George, to Charlie resigning himself back to the shed to escape all the drama and pass the time before he could leave again.

 _Guess I'm moving back in with Pansy tonight after all._


	27. Chapter 27

_Wednesday, October 31, 2001_

"I never knew how to grieve when we were in school," Harry said in a low voice after finishing yet another tumbler of scotch. Hermione was laying on the chaise while Draco sprawled along the sofa, both watching Harry silently as he summoned the bottle over and refilled his glass.

He had started their drinking session in the chair by the fire, not at all his usual seat in the library but the one where he didn't have to shrug away Hermione trying to comfort him or acknowledge all of the sideways glances Draco sent him.

"I went from knowing very little about my parents to having their deaths thrusted at me almost every day and still, they were these mythical beings whose lives were completely separate from mine and I didn't know how to grieve for them, least of all on Halloween."

Draco winced, having used Harry's dead parents as a stick to hit him with for years, and took a long sip of his own drink.

. . . . .

They'd woken up to Hermione insisting they eat out for breakfast today, and surprisingly brought them to Paris where Narcissa was waiting with open arms and a table filled with breakfast foods. They spent hours there, no one mentioning the elephant in the room, until Narcissa announced that the bonfire was waiting to be lit and would they like to do it now or wait until dark.

Harry was the one who suggested doing it right away.

They met in the backyard where a modest and well-kept pyre made in the shape of a small tower. All around were tables of food being laid out by Kreacher, who encouraged them to eat but promised the rest would be given away, as per tradition. Torches lit the backyard as the clocks indoors chimed five o'clock and the sun started moving towards setting.

Harry was the one given the first torch, which he threw at the pyre with a nod from Narcissa.

Hermione was given the second, followed by Draco, followed by Narcissa. Kreacher was offered the choice but declined, saying that there was much more food to prepare first. Narcissa offered masks to her guests but after Harry declined, the others did too. They sat around the bonfire, watching it and thinking of the dead – Gregory Goyle, Lavender Brown, Severus Snape and the countless other casualties of war – and the living for at least an hour with very little conversation, before Harry said he was ready to go. Samhain was done for him but the night was still quite young.

They floo'd back directly to the library and hadn't left since. It was sometime after midnight when they switched from whiskey to scotch because that was all that was left. Harry was despondent at first but gradually he spoke more, of work and of Draco's NEWT prep and of Hermione's next trip out of town, until finally he mentioned his parents.

. . . . .

"Usually he would be drinking with Remus but tonight's a full moon," Hermione whispered as the pair of them made for the kitchen to get late night snacks. Upon their return, Harry was sitting on the couch Draco had been on, no alcohol in sight. Draco wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Hermione was just as unsettled.

"Harry, what are you—,"

"Let's go. I want to go and see them."

There was no room for arguing with Harry who looked less downtrodden than he had all night. Hermione, the least drunk of the three of them, sighed and nodded but wouldn't consider letting them leave until everyone had jumpers and cloaks.

Reassembled in the library, Hermione took both men's hands and a deep breath before Apparating to Godric's Hollow. They arrived on the same off street Hermione and Harry had landed on almost four Christmases ago in their search for chunks of Voldemort's soul. Hermione shivered as she remembered how that fateful night went.

"They're over here."

Harry keep a hold of Hermione's hand, who kept a hold of Draco's, and dragged them to the town square where a large statue of a couple with a small bundle in their arms were surrounded by groups of watchers in cloaks with candles chanted and swayed. Hermione barely managed to mask his disgust at the annual revelers who flocked to Godric's Hollow but Harry didn't seem to notice them.

His eyes were only for his parents.

"You know, I made the joke a few years ago about installing a statue of Sirius at the base, lounging with a cigarette. No one took to the idea," Harry said with a soft smile, his eyes locked on his parents.

Draco looked at this man who had been so difficult to read all day finally mourning; tears silently poured down his face as he gazed up at his parents' effigy. He let go of Hermione's hand and went to Harry's other side, taking the man's hand and holding it. He had learned that living with these two meant a lot of unspoken things being communicated though touch, a judgement further enforced by Hermione gently laying her head on Harry's shoulder to his left.

"Do you think they'd be proud of us, of what we've done?" Harry asked in a quiet murmur, tilting his head somewhat towards Hermione.

"I don't regret it, getting Draco out. I just wonder if my parents would understand or if they'd hate us like Molly does," Harry admitted, squeezing Draco's hand at the mention of his name. Draco squeezed back at the mention of Molly's.

"I think both of our parents would be proud," Hermione whispered, lifting her head and nodding towards the cemetery visible off of the main road.

"Let's go and visit them proper."

. . . . .

They returned to Argyll House sometime after three in the morning. Hermione fell asleep fairly quick on the sofa, Draco shifting her so that her head was on the pillow on his lap rather than her original idea of sleeping sitting straight up. Harry waved his wand and moved a blanket over to cover her.

"When we were in Godric's Hollow, Hermione mentioned that both of your parents would be proud of you. I know I should be asking her but what happened to her parents?" Draco asked, his drunk hand uninhibited by fear as he lightly stroked the side of Hermione's cheek and pushed back a stray strand of hair.

Harry let out a deep sigh and sagged deeper into the chaise he had claimed.

"Not long after Dumbledore died, everyone on our side was in a panic. There had been some recruitment for the Order and some preliminary moves made but no one was ready for outright war. There were important people to protect; the Minister for Magic, his Muggle counterpart, the heads of certain departments. Of course finding out some had already been taken over or Imperiused threw a new wrench into planning. Hermione's parents, a pair of muggle dentists, were very low on the list of priorities," Harry explained, watching Draco as his hand moves from Hermione's face to her hair, running his fingers through it.

Harry might have said something if the worry lines on Hermione's face hadn't eased up at the motion.

"Hermione took matters into her own hands. She knew that we would be off to hunt horcruxes the moment we had a lead and that the Order wouldn't be able to protect her parents while we were gone for who knew how long. So she did the only thing she could, and she erased herself completely from their memories."

Harry waited as the implications of such magic worked themselves out in Draco's mind, his hand trembling slightly as it continued running through the witches hair.

"She orphaned herself to protect me and to protect her parents. She implanted an urge for her parents to pack up shop, leave Britain and move to Australia. Of course when the war ended the Ministry found her parents, but undoing what she did could kill them. So they're alive and well, but they will never know they have a daughter."

At this, the ultimate sacrifice, Harry finished off his tumbler. Draco downed his, sadness and respect blooming in his chest for the poor woman in his lap, and looked at the broken man across from him.

"She's always taken care of me and given up so much for me and refuses to hear a word of thanks or apology. I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for her," Harry admitted in a low voice.

Draco looked at Harry and waited until the man looked back, giving him time to regain his composure, before trying his hand at that boyish grin Harry always made when he wanted everything to be good again.

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her either."

Harry shrugged exaggeratingly but smiled back. Neither said anything more as they both turned their attention back to the oblivious witch who had captured both of their hearts, a reality they were both growingly aware of.


	28. Chapter 28

_Tuesday, November 6, 2001_

Draco laid wide awake well into the early morning. The sun hadn't begun to rise yet but the star light was beginning to wane and Draco was at that point where he had long given up trying to sleep but had yet succumbed to the idea of getting up and starting his day.

He had fallen asleep hours ago, but by midnight had startled himself fully awake with an unbearably vivid nightmare of Azkaban. He could feel the burn of fresh welts across his back as if they were more than just lingering figments of nightmare, sweat drenching his face mingled with tears as pained screams tore out of his body, leaving his throat raw.

He tried to calm down, tried to remember where he was, but couldn't escape the mindset. He was back in the damp, cobblestone prison, his ears covers as he chanted to try and drown out the laughter of guards who'd told Draco that maybe his mother was alive, maybe she was dead – he would never know because he would die long before he would see her again.

The way they'd suggested though that she had been torn apart before her last breath made him certain she was already gone.

It took Draco hours to settle down and distract himself from his lingering fears. He focused instead on Hermione: her soft hair and the lingering smell of rosemary peppermint early in the morning; on the way she would keep eye contact with him always, no matter how uncomfortable it made him; on how she would nibble on the corner of her lip or the edge of her thumb when she was nervous; her gorgeous brown eyes.

Those brown eyes stayed on Draco's mind, kept there by sheer force of will, until suddenly Draco noticed they had melted and revealed the brightest green eyes.

Draco sat up, startled by where his mind had gone. Admitting to himself that he might find Hermione beautiful was one thing but to think of Harry that way—

Harry, who was standing at the bottom of Draco's bed.

"What the fuck Potter?" Draco asked in a gravely voice, accidentally slipping up and using Harry's surname in his groggy, startled state of mind. He rubbed at his eyes and scratched a sudden itch on the right side of his head but Harry just took a seat at the bottom of Draco's bed.

"I was checking up on Hermione when I thought I'd peek in on you. You were making some weird noises, I wanted to see you were okay."

Draco grunted at that, embarrassed that the noises Harry would have heard were either his earlier torment from thoughts of Azkaban or the traitorous thoughts Draco found himself returning to more and more often of his two roommates.

Thinking of Harry thusly should have made Draco self-conscious in his exposed state of being, mentally and physically as he often slept in shorts and nothing else, but he couldn't help but look at those brilliant green eyes shining with honest concern.

"Was it Azkaban?" Harry asked, settling in.

Draco nodded, not willing to share the other parts.

"It's not as bad as it was weeks ago but while it happens less now, they're much worse comparatively. Luna figures its progress," he explained, ending with a shrug as if he wasn't so sure he agreed.

Harry nodded, listening intently.

"Is it always the same?"

Draco thought about that and finally nodded. "In the way that there are some recurring moments and that the rest is just vague but vibrant memories of physical pain. I had no shortage of that but the guards weren't the most inventive of jailors so a lot of the beatings were to the same places."

Harry frowned at that, remembering the abused state Draco had been in when he and Hermione had first seen him in prison and how barely better he seemed when he moved in with them.

"You talk to Luna about the specifics of your dreams, right? When… when I was seeing a Mind Healer, I had to give a lot of horrible details. Was kind of like doing the thing twice," Harry admitted, not entirely sure why he was sharing that. It wasn't as though Draco didn't know Harry had seen someone professionally after the War but it wasn't exactly something they'd discussed.

"Sort of. She asks for a lot more than I give her."

Draco wouldn't always dream of Azkaban, although the wizarding prison always figured its way into his nightmares. Often he would dream of torturing others or being tortured, and sometimes it was Luna's eyes that would haunt him into the morning hours.

Harry, somehow, seemed to guess that.

"If talking about it is supposed to help but you can't talk to Luna about… certain parts… well, I'm here. I'm not much, but you can talk to me."

Draco dropped his head forward, the weight of its contents momentarily overwhelming him, before turning it up slightly to look at Harry curiously. The offer to reveal what had happened to him, to tell one person every horrible thing he had done, was painfully tempting but for it to be Harry Potter of all people – well, Draco hesitated.

"Consider it the least I can do after I nearly dissected you with Snape's _sectumsempra_." Harry whispered, his eyes tracing the scars across Draco's chest. Both men swallowed down lumps in their throat.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the way the moonlight made Harry's eyes twice as bright or perhaps Draco was just so unused to having someone care about his personal well-being that he turned and shifted the pillows in such a way that there was room for the two of them to sit up against the headboard.

Harry accepted the wordless invitation and moved to the top of the bed.

Draco started before Azkaban, to the day he returned home from school to find Voldemort in his bedroom. Draco was tortured in a lingering fit of resentment Voldemort had for his father's failures and drained of any and all information he had of Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, the rest of the staff, and on and on.

He recounted the summer spent working with his Aunt to hone his Occulumency to hide his plans from Snape and Dumbledore and the research he undertook regarding the broken Vanishing Cabinet. How Voldemort knew so certainly it would be there meant nothing to Draco, just that if he didn't finish it by the end of the school year, he would quickly find himself an orphan.

Getting his Dark Mark had hurt so badly he had been knocked unconscious for days.

Harry admitted watching Draco relentlessly that year, watching as he decayed before his eyes, convinced that Draco was whole heartedly working away at something horrible. He apologized for never once considering what forces were driving Draco to madness. Draco nodded and accepted.

Draco didn't bother talking about the night he failed to kill Dumbledore. Harry had supposedly been there, which made sense because at the time Draco had been confused by the presence of the second broom stick but things had spiraled out of control so quickly that there was never any chance for him to figure that puzzle out.

The following year was agony. Tortured for failing to kill Dumbledore, forced to torture others to keep himself and his family in relative safety. His mother was largely kept as a noose around his and his fathers' neck, never properly respected for her power (something Draco was immensely grateful for).

"I'm sure if Voldemort had realized your mums power and won her over, the world would be a very different place right now," Harry murmured, earning a snort from Draco as he happened to think the very same thing.

Draco told stories of families he had destroyed, faceless muggles terrified of this magical man had come to destroy them. He confessed that he had been sick the first time he'd been told to kill and only escaped punishment because his Aunt pitied him. She had chosen this life for whatever reason but she knew Draco had not.

She made it her life mission after that to acclimatize him to the killing and the torture but accepted when he refused to partake in the rape their counterparts so reveled in. Thankfully his Aunt, while very much _not_ a feminist, very much disagreed with Death Eaters sullying themselves with the spoils of war.

Another small blessing for Draco.

He confessed crying the first time he was told to torture Luna, the first person he had well and truly recognized. He admitted her screams and her eyes still haunted him. Harry, noticing that Draco's hands were balled into fists and shaking, immediately grabbed one and held tightly. He waited in silence as Draco struggled to regain his breath and finally unfurled his fist to clasp fingers with the man he never thought he would ever confide in.

He recounted the day he watched, powerless, as Hermione was tortured. Admitted in the tiniest of voices that he tried so hard to be invisible because not only could he not save her but he couldn't bear the thought of being the next one to torture her.

He had come to terms with the idea that muggle or not, no one deserved to be tortured. Discovering Hermione's blood was as red as his, something he was ashamed to admit he had honestly doubted growing up, had shifted everything into this blinding balance that undid everything he'd been raised to believe.

Explaining his prejudice and how it had died with Hermione Jen Granger was a liberating experience. He had touched on the topic somewhat with Luna but never really fully dived into it with someone who knew so little firsthand, but with Harry, he figured he had a chance to circle that square. He explained that purebloods are largely told that muggleborns are inferior creatures that aren't so much dangerous as they are defective.

You don't invite them over for tea.

"Hermione still gets a lot of that," Harry admitted with a lightly yawn, unwittingly lowering his head to Draco's shoulder. "Walking around the Ministry with her sometimes it's like society is shocked she can figure out how to button up her coat in the morning."

Draco nodded, not at all surprised, but surprisingly annoyed on her behalf.

"If I had been confronted by a witch half as competent as Hermione I would probably still be questioning everything I had been taught as a child but she took everything I had been raised to believe and burned it down. Her blood was just the last piece of that puzzle."

Harry nodded, his eyes closing.

Draco went on to describe his arrest and the humiliation he suffered at the trial, his misplaced anger with Harry for trying to save him when Draco refused to believe he deserved to stand trial at all. He kept that resentment and that rage throughout his years at Azkaban, which he figured largely helped him to keep his sanity. His single minded refusal to accept the beatings, the verbal abuse, any of it, somehow kept him outside the experience.

"I'm glad. You're not half bad how you are now," Harry whispered, awake but barely so.

Draco smiled softly, taking the compliment as it was, and discretely inhaled. He was comforted by the scent of freshly laundered clothing and something woodsy as he allowed himself to lean in to Harry and doze off as well.

* * *

A happy early birthday for ellsworth-longfellow, for whom I am posting this chapter early. I will hopefully be posting new chapters every second day, give or take, but who knows. My mother in law is staying us for the next week so we'll see what my writing schedule looks like.


	29. Chapter 29

_Thursday, November 22, 2001_

"Fuck this and fuck you all! Get your hands off of me, I'm out of here!"

Draco climbed out of the spiked pit he had almost fallen in to once the screeching started and over to the side of the obstacle course he was currently running through while dodging curses. Word had spread through the precinct that Draco was being examined today as part of the physical requirements needed to get his much overdue NEWT in Defence.

A man known simply by his surname as Morris, who Tonks would later note had done rather poorly his first time through training for whatever that was worth, had finally snapped and quit.

"Death Eaters being on the force is one thing but special treatment? He's a fucking baby killer and no one is willing to say it, well there's no way in hell I'll ever fight by his side. This place is fucking insane – Get off me man!"

Morris was the first auror to snap after months of poking and prodding by Tonks, using Draco as an irritant to test the remaining Aurors. She'd fired a dozen or so in her first few months as head of the department, earning something of a bad reputation in the process, but there were still quite a few recruits from immediately after the war who didn't quite meet her strict standards.

And finally one of them had lost it.

Draco walked off the high beam and over to Harry and the examiner, who was _tsking_ and shaking his head at the uncouth behavior. Draco asked if they could take a five minute break while the room calmed down and received a terse nod. He and Harry walked over to Tonks, who stood by the doorway as two of her more loyal men dragged the protestor away.

"Who had week twelve for the first quitter?" Draco asked, digging two galleons out of his pocket. Harry raised one hand and accepted his winnings with the other to a grumbling but visibly pleased Tonks.

"One more week and that pot would have been mine."

Draco shrugged, having called dibs on the first five weeks and watching as each day in the office ended as quietly as it began, torn between pleased and disappointed. That this would happen was an inevitable but he would have rather profited from his role as pariah.

He spent two or three days a week in the auror department, largely balancing training with paperwork with a sprinkling of fieldwork experience. His NEWT in defence was more or less assured given the reviews he'd received from Tonks, who was one of his proctors, and in part from the tutoring he'd been receiving from Harry in between shifts.

Who would have thought word of extracurricular training and an overdue examination would be what would finally push one of the disgruntled aurors over the edge? Not that Draco really minded, all things considered.

He had yet to really be welcomed to the department by anyone other than Tonks and Kingsley, who was a frequent visitor at the department. The two had spoken in private shortly after the incident with the press and smoothed things over, and Draco tentatively chalked the Minister up as a fair-weather friend, which was a lot better than an all-the-time enemy.

He had enough of those in the auror department.

Draco got himself a drink of water and returned to the training room, resuming his midterm examination. A few aurors watched from their desks through the glass wall that peered into the training room with aloof expressions but Draco guessed more than one of them watched hoping he would come to an untimely demise.

Those looks became more pronounced throughout the day as Draco wrapped up the physical exam in the morning and took to his desk to work on his precis of a crime scene he visited from earlier in the week to factor into the reasoning for transferring the file to DLME. He had no problem writing those reports up, especially given that the DLME were considerably less antagonistic towards him.

That discovery had also hurt his reputation in the auror department.

He visited the coffee room alone sometime midday and everyone inside stopped and stared at him, some with looks of disgust and others with veiled looks of contempt. It seemed that whether or not they liked him or not before, the tide had turned for the worse.

He had sort of expected that to happen too.

He hadn't so much been expecting Morris to have wormed his way back into the department and to be waiting for Draco in the unlit locker room at the end of the day. He felt him first rather than saw him, a cheap shot thrown out of the dark and catching Draco in the jaw.

He spun but caught himself, the muscle memory of the boxing lessons of his adolescence kicking in. The anger management aspect of the exercise completely forgotten, Draco turned without a word to the coward and began grappling him, throwing jabs when the two split, and the room slowly filled with a cheering crowd of younger aurors and cops, none of them interfering, none of them noticed by Draco.

The fight snapped something in Draco, who had been so cautious and reserved following his incarceration. Now that rage came out and blinded him, but didn't slow him down: another minute or two of grappling and Draco found himself pinning Morris to the ground under his knees, his fists earning satisfying crunches from his nose, his jaw, his collarbone, and his ribs.

Draco didn't even notice the crowd surrounding them in a tight circle, cheering and exchanging bets, even as two sets of arms pulled him off. Morris struggled to his feet but once he was standing, he launched at the restrained Draco and got two shots to his face before Draco was released to return the favor.

By the time Tonks caught sound of the cheering in the change rooms and broke it up, Draco was kicking at a curled up and crying Morris, asking him if he was having any regrets.

"Break it up, break it up! Oi! Let off already!" Tonks shouted, smacking Draco across the back of his head, snapping him back to. He wiped at his bleeding nose and shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts but once he took that first hit he went into something of a frenzy and couldn't quite recall how he managed to break so many of his knuckles but he was suddenly very aware of the fact that he had.

"Alright you lot, head home," Tonks said, surveying the group of younger employees shift nervously and depart quickly. She nodded to two who nodded to her, one of them waving his wand at Morris to levitate his prone form and head toward the atrium to floo to the hospital.

"Well, I'd hoped that as our countries esteemed law enforcement we might have risen above such tactics but on the plus side it seems as though you've earned some respect among the lower ranks," Tonks admitted in a low voice, surveying the room to find little damage and cleaning up the blood that had managed to spray across several surfaces.

"I'm guessing you didn't seek him out," Tonks added, earning a disdainful scoff from her cousin as he explained what he remembered. She nodded and didn't question much as he glazed over the fight details.

"I'm happy pretending this didn't happen given the paperwork I'd have to fill out otherwise. Just get Harry or Hermione to take a look at your hands sometime in the next few hours, they look rather disgusting," recommended Tonks with a sickly satisfying look on her face as she clapped him on the back and left.

Draco let out a deep exhale and went to his locker, retrieving his wallet and watch from its' safety and Apparating directly home to avoid the inevitable hoard of press waiting in the Ministry atrium.

 _Tomorrow's headline, **Malfoy heir attacks officer of the law: is he stable?**_

He arrived in their hallway and hung up his cloak, greeted by the wondrous smell of Indian take out. He could hear Hermione humming as she laid out the fruits of her labor and as he entered the kitchen doorway, he almost cried just watching her.

She looked up by chance and saw him, seemingly oblivious to the blood splattered across his face and robes, standing in the doorway and watching with heavy eyes. She sighed and waved him forward, wandlessly summoning her wand from the counter top to her hands as she began mending his torn knuckles and soothing the bruises as they started to form.

The cooling sensation undid Draco, who without thinking took Hermione in his arms and hugged her close, lowering his face into her curls. She took to her tippy toes and hugged him back, guessing that he really needed someone to, and stood like that for a solid two minutes.

"Thanks Hermione," Draco whispered, letting go. He hadn't shed any tears, controlling his emotions in the time he hid away in her hair, and looked much less defeated and instead calm. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, turning and missing the blush that broke out on his cheeks.

"We all have bad days at work, Draco. I'm happy I could be here for you. And I'm sure the other guy looks worse."

Draco smirked and nodded, taking his seat and digging in as Harry loudly entered the room and praised deities that _someone_ remembered his lamb curry this time.

* * *

Authors note: Hello everyone! Apologies for the delay, my mother in law was in town for a week as a major distraction and seemingly took my inspiration away with her when she left. I have the next few months already mapped out, it's just a matter of writing the damn things at this point. Sorry in advance for any typos, I just wanted to get this out before I hemmed and hawed and convinced myself out of it.


	30. Chapter 30 - The Holidays (Part One)

_For Colubrina, who deserves much better than she got._

 _Tuesday, December 24, 2001_

Draco collected the finely wrapped gifts he'd picked out for his friends and family and exited the room set up for him at his mothers' home in France, styled in the traditional Slytherin green motif, cringing at the possibility that Harry and Hermione were being housed in outrageously Gryffindor styled suites.

As he walked down the staircase, following the smell of cinnamon cocoa and the sound of his mother humming, he found the lady of the house looking over the decorations of the several small trees in the foyer. Draco spotted a few homemade decorations he figured Hermione and Harry had chipped in from their childhoods to the main tree in the family room but the dozen or so others were adorned with less symbolic, more generic, glass bulbs and twinkling lights.

Hermione was visiting an aunt for the afternoon and Harry was with his godson before settling in for a week long retreat to France.

That left Draco alone with his mother for several hours of Malfoy bonding, but Draco didn't rush to her side as he might have years earlier. He stood at the doorway, gifts set aside momentarily on a side table and just watched as his mother focused intently on the fairy lights dancing before her, waving her wand with an airy swish to rearrange the boughs to accommodate their festive cheer more symmetrically.

His mother had always decorated the Manor beyond the expectations set the year before but for once Draco felt as if her heart was wholly in it. She turned, not yet noticing Draco, and with another wave of her wand transfigured the nutcracker brigade, ordering the animated soldiers to the other side of the room to resume their positions on guard of the pile of presents set up to be donated later that evening to the local orphanage.

Remembering the Christmases of his youth, Draco imagined those children would find themselves rather overwhelmed by her patronage come morning.

"Hello Mother," Draco said, making his presence known. Narcissa turned and lavished her only son with a smile, gracing each of his cheeks with a kiss as she wrapped her arms around him and held tightly for a moment. He kissed her on the forehead and looked over to admire her work. She had clearly put in hours of effort to decorate the house well beyond any of Draco's best childhood memories and after missing several holidays to rot in a dreary prison, he appreciated what she was doing for him.

"Thank you, Mother. For all of this," Draco whispered, kissing her head again as she let go and straightened up her robes. She gave him a scoff eerily familiar to his ears and looked around, admiring her own work as well.

"Between you and Harry, I imagine every Christmas will be this extravagant. Nothing less would suffice."

Draco's brow crinkled at the mention of Harry. It wasn't that he was still hung up on the admittedly strange relationship between Harry and his mother, but that he would need a large Christmas at all. Taunts of Christmases past echoed in his ears but Draco could hardly imagine that staying at Hogwarts during a few hols warranted such a response.

"I'm beginning to get the impression that you like him more than me," he tried joking but the effort fell flat.

Narcissa turned slowly and gave her son a scathing look with a perfectly groomed eyebrow that made him feel several inches shorter and several degrees stupider, cringing into himself with a small wince. Draco rarely warranted _that_ look growing up, Narcissa favoring the 'I'm disappointed face' when it came to his antics, but he's seen it used on others and nothing good followed.

An uncomfortable silence fell on the room until Narcissa wordlessly turned and left, her posture signaling to Draco to follow her. She led the way into the dining room to a tray of freshly laid out cocoa and decorated sugar cookies that Draco was too afraid to touch until his mother gave her permission.

"Sit down, Draco."

The order came softer than Draco expected, his body reacting before his mind had a moment to parse through the word choice or tone. He watched as his mother sat as well, giving nothing away as she took one of the filled mugs from the tray, indicated for him to as well.

They both sipped silently.

"I know that when you were a boy you would taunt Harry often for having no proper family, but what do you know of his life before Hogwarts?"

Draco frowned as the memories flashed through his mind, his sneering little face and cutting words looking all the more pathetic with perspective. Once upon a time he'd thought being raised by muggles was the worst possible thing that could happen to a person but of course that had been long before he'd stood on the front line of the losing side in a war. Still, as he drudged up old memories of scant details shared around the castle, he admitted he knew very little and extrapolated quite a lot.

Narcissa nodded, her earlier look replaced by one much more tired and apprehensive. Then she began telling him the story about the boy under the cupboard.

. . . . .

Draco hid away most of the evening in his room, unable to keep his magic in check. He could feel the familiar hatred he grew up with, his face distorting against his will as the details of what those _filthy muggles_ did contorting it with rage and like an endless cycle he would stop, feeling disgusted with himself until suddenly he would be assaulted by another anecdote imparted on him by his mother and the anger would surge all over again.

It was late in the evening when Hermione let herself into his room, telling him before he could object that she wasn't going to hear it, and dragged him out. She told him in hushed tones that she had told Narcissa those stories in confidence and they had been told to Draco similarly but that what was important now wasn't how horrible those people were but that they made up for all the Christmases lost and celebrated like a family for Harry who'd never had one.

Draco winced as a crushing force rebounded off a portrait, its frame shattered into splinters, into his lungs and briefly knocked the wind out of him. Hermione gripped his arm tighter with pinched lips but said nothing.

"I've known how horrible they were since first year and it's still hard to endure it. I know how powerless it must make you feel, especially for you considering how far you two have come in the last few months, but don't let them poison this for Harry. You being here has extended his family by one, Draco," Hermione whispered, giving Draco a brief hug as they came to the top of the stairs before descending. "Don't take that from him."

Draco nodded and exhaled, using the breathing techniques Luna preached to him constantly, and after a minute nodded again and followed her down to the main part of the house. They found Harry sitting on the ground at the foot of the sofa Narcissa was sitting delicately on, legs crossed, sipping from cups of chocolate and laughing.

Neither commented as the two newcomers joined the room, Kreacher setting out two steaming mugs for them soundlessly, and the conversation continued. Narcissa was regaling the room with stories of Draco's youth, but rather than join in telling them or moan theatrically throughout, Draco watched Harry.

Hermione's words played on repeat in his head as he watched Harry blush when Hermione pointed out the stray wisp of whip cream in the corner of his beard, _don't let them poison this for Harry. You being here has extended his family by one, Draco._

 _They're my family now,_ Draco decided, watching as Harry flicked whip cream at Hermione who scolded him but without any real gusto, _and I'll do everything to protect them._

* * *

 _Author's note: Hello everyone! Here's the first of several holiday chapters, which I'm posting tonight because it's overdue but editing in the morning (it's late here). If you thought Draco's reaction was a bit out of character, I promised it will be addressed shortly. Fingers crossed you all enjoy it. Also relationship development is imminent because come on, it's Christmas (in May)._


	31. Chapter 31 - The Holidays (Part Two)

_Wednesday, December 25, 2001 – Christmas Day_

Draco woke up tired, having tossed and turned most of the evening, his stomach unsettled from a night of anger. He croaked out Kreachers name and when the small elf wearing a festive piece arrived asked for a coffee if the elf would be so kind. It reminded Draco the family was meeting for breakfast in an hour but seeing the dire need on his young master's face nodded and disappeared with a small _pop_.

Draco rubbed at his sleepy eyes until the elf returned and after a few sips to ease his pain, Draco turned to the small tree in the corner of his room and saw presents piled underneath it. Smiling softly, Draco dragged his tired, creaking bones over and set his mug down on the table in front of his fireplace before gathering all of his gifts and bringing them over to be opened.

His mother had gifted him several expensive sets of robes and suits, with a note explaining proper washing and handling. Chuckling lightly, he set the robes aside and turned to the small box from Harry, wrapped in silver with a red bow.

Draco laughed at this, having wrapped his gift to Harry in gold paper with a green bow, and pulled it open. Inside was a stunning gold watch. The detailing was so fine and the quality so good that Draco figured Harry couldn't have just walked in to a store and picked it up: this required research.

He guessed this, having gotten Harry a watch as well and having spent weeks going through catalogues and stores until he found just the right silver wristwatch.

The next few gifts were less personal from others in Draco's life: Belgian chocolates from Tonks and Remus; bath products including bubble bath and candles ironically titled Dragon's Quest from Luna; silver cuff links from Theo and Astoria; a hawk feather quill from Daphne.

Hermione's was last, and it was large.

Draco touched the box, already a foot and a half wide and two and a half long, before it multiplied, other boxes wrapped identically in icy blue wrapping paper of various sizes surrounding him. Excited and amused by the clever charm, Draco tore the wrapping off and inside found wonderfully rich coloured leather luggage. The last piece he opened, having appeared the furthest away from him, was a carry on piece with a white envelope sticking out of the front pocket.

 _Dear Draco_

 _Happy Christmas! I hope you enjoy the luggage – you'll be needing it. We have a big project in Turkey this spring that will take us out of town for eight days, so I figured why not extend the trip to include a two week vacation? We'll be back just before Theo and Astoria's rehearsal dinner, so look forward to sporting a glorious tan._

 _All my love,  
Hermione_

Draco reread the card, his smile becoming more pronounced as his eyes caught on the sign off.

He finished up his coffee and with a lazy wave of his wand had his Christmas gifts dance into a piece of his new luggage with the exception of his new watch, which set aside to be worn. He found a nice set of robes and laid them out on his bed as well, showering first and changing before leaving his room to search out his family and some food.

He ran into Hermione first, who rushed into him and hugged him closely, wearing a lovely set of silk pajamas. He hugged her back, inhaling the fresh smell of her shampoo, as she thanked him for the beautiful typewriter he'd had restored for her. He kissed the top of her head lightly, surprising even himself, and walked together with her to the main floor.

Narcissa and Harry were already sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffees and eating from the extravagant display Kreacher had assembled. Harry stood and hugged Hermione, thanking her for her gift and then turning and hugging Draco, pulling back and smiling his boyish smile as he lifted his arm to reveal his watch while Draco did the same.

They took seats at the table, Draco leaning in to kiss his mother on the cheek before he took his seat, and recounted the gifts they'd received from friends. It was a wonderful breakfast, interrupted once by a shivering Kreacher who found several small, wrapped gifts waiting for him in the kitchen and came to thank his masters with tears – until Harry discussed the gifts he received from his family.

"My cousin isn't nearly so bad these days. He sent me a nice card with a note inviting me over sometime in the new year to catch up over a pint. My aunt and uncle just sent an unsigned card, but it was pretty obviously theirs," Harry said, his tone jovial.

Draco couldn't take it though. He set down his cup a little harder than he intended, ignoring the looks shot to him by everyone at the table, and excused himself with a terse tone.

He found himself back in his room pacing for several minutes before the epiphany hit and he grabbed a handful of powder and leapt through the floo.

. . . . .

"Draco, isn't this a surprise. Happy Christmas," Luna said, sipping tea from her kitchen table wearing dancing banana clad pajama shorts. Draco learned early not to comment on her peculiar fashion sense and chose not to now, merely nodding as he wiped soot off of himself.

"I appreciated the fruit basket with the jewelry making kit inside. Sarcasm or not, the kit was actually really good and the strawberries were surprisingly fresh."

Draco almost forgot to be mad for a moment, amused anew by his Christmas gift choice, before unloading his frustration to Luna. She listened, getting up at one point to pour Draco a cup of tea, which he drank absentmindedly as he explained.

"Of course you're a mess," Luna said as Draco finally ran out of steam and gave her a chance to chime in. "You think you're in love with them, so of course his horrible muggles would bother you years after the fact."

Draco nodded, agreeing with the last statement, then realized what she'd said at the start.

"What do you mean ' _think_ you're in love with them'?"

Luna shrugged, readjusting the straps of the black tank top she wore, and explained. "You're not you with them and I'm betting you aren't seeing them clearly either. Harry avoids conflict at almost any cost but you seem to still think of him as a hero," she explained first, summoning biscuits from the counter. Draco took one without being offered and began tearing it apart, pondering Luna's wisdom, such as it was.

"Hermione's overbearing nature is perfectly fine in check but she's been mother ducking you since day one with her endless steps to recovery. The Draco from five years ago wouldn't have let her within five feet but now you bow to her almost every command? I mean, she's usually right so there's that, but you never complain. You're hardly sarcastic with them, and don't tell me you are because Hermione has already come to me with this concern. You've been outed."

Draco muttered, having been prepared to disagree, but unable to put his heart into it. She was right. He generally didn't throw the same sass at the pair of them that he would to anyone else.

"What was it you called me last week? A 'dimple faced doe eyed doxy?" Luna asked, making her point; Draco smirked, confirming it. They ate their biscuits in silence, Draco considering what she said. She was right that he didn't act entirely himself with them, but was that so wrong? Sarcasm was fine and all but he was starting to like to have people he could just be with. He'd never _really_ had that before.

"So what now then?" Draco asked, ignoring the rest for now. Luna shrugged, a smile on her face as she knew he work through the revelations later.

"Easy. Talk to Harry. It's his childhood that's bothering you. It might bother him too."

. . . . .

Draco returned through the fireplace, arriving in the kitchen this time. To his surprise it was Harry he ran into, making himself a sandwich without Kreacher there to stop him.

"Oh, hey," Harry said, immediately pulling out the means to make more sandwiches. "The women folk have abandoned us for the afternoon to deliver food and gifts to the local charities your mum works with, and Kreacher's helping. Mustard?"

Draco nodded, setting the plate of biscuits Luna had sent back with him on the counter for Harry to pick from.

"You okay?" Harry asked, not looking up. Draco watched him, waiting for his anger to spring up, but it didn't. Harry was too relaxed, too happy.

"I guess. I'm sorry for disappearing earlier. You mentioned your aunt and uncle and I just sort of lost it. My mother told me about what it was like for you growing up with that lot. I feel even shittier for how I treated you as children, but I never knew it was that bad."

Harry looked up and saw the sincerity on Draco's face. He had told Narcissa some stories of his youth over the years when she asked, figuring out at one point from her reactions that perhaps she already knew some of them. Hermione, of course, became privy to all of those stories growing up with him, always trying to make up for the years lost.

He didn't mind Draco knowing too, he was just glad he wasn't the one to tell him.

"It's fine, Draco. Really. I got over it a long time ago and besides, I'm happier now than I've ever been. Hard to dwell on all that after all this time I suppose."

Draco scoffed, his anger flaring at the blasé tone Harry was taking, and immediately his mood shifted.

"Bullshit! You don't just move on from having been raised in a fucking cupboard like it was a one-time drunken accident. They hurt you!" Draco snarled, unhappy that not only did he have to explain to Harry that what had happened was unacceptable but that in some way, Draco was going to have to accept it.

"Well you don't have to yell at me about it, I was there when it happened you know!"

Draco laughed a harsh, cold, scornful laugh, and continued yelling, "Clearly I do because you're too fucking noble or stupid to be angry about those awful fucking excuses for—" but was interrupted.

Harry was kissing Draco.

He sprung off of the counter where he had been leaning when Draco began his high volume tirade and grabbed the man by his neck and the side of his head, pulling his lips down to meet his own, swallowing his words. Harry did this last feat with his eyes closed, holding the kiss for fewer than ten seconds, before pulling back.

"What the fuck Potter?" Draco asked, no longer yelling, no longer angry. If anything he was surprised and a little dazed but not angry and not visibly uncomfortable, which relaxed a suddenly tense Harry.

He watched, waiting to see what else the blond would say, but that was it. The question hung in the air until Harry muttered, "I just wanted to shut you up. Seemed like a good idea at the time," and returned his attention to the counter and grabbed his sandwich.

Draco just watched as Harry, clearly embarrassed, chewed and looked at the ground intently, and burst into an undeniable laugh. He couldn't contain it or control it and he definitely couldn't stop it, laughing until the sound became so infectious that Harry started laughing too, his fears of disgusting and alienating Draco pushed to the back of his mind to be dealt with later as he enjoyed the sound of his laughter for the time being.


	32. Chapter 32 - The Holidays (Part Three)

_Thursday, December 26, 2001_

In the days of decadence and luxury – long before the days of Voldemort – the Malfoy family would always hold a ball on Christmas Day. It was cumbersome for some but no one would ever dare miss it, and so no one ever complained. Even after Voldemort first rose and fell, the ball persevered, now controlled by Narcissa Malfoy née Black, who had never been to a party she couldn't have thrown better.

The Malfoy Christmas ball was her second born child for all the effort she put in, and it showed.

The second rise of Voldemort, however, was the undoing of all that had been good and right in the world. No one celebrated in the largest hall at Malfoy Manor, opulence forgotten, dancing forgone, and happiness hidden away where it was safe.

When Voldemort fell again – and for good this time, thanks in part to Narcissa Malfoy née Black – the Malfoy Christmas ball remained cancelled. Malfoy Manor had been barred from entry and Narcissa had lost her family to the depths of Azkaban.

Still, the aristocratic elite and the new money needed a venue to mingle and exchange Christmas cheer, and those parties always managed to get a full cauldron of donations and a few dozen toys under the tree for the children to open while their parents drank.

The dark period lasted until Pansy Parkinson arrived.

So it was on Boxing Day that Draco, Harry and Hermione found themselves in formal attire and at the entrance to the Parkinson estate, each man adorning one of Hermione's white silk glove covered arms. Ron and Pansy stood with Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson to receive people, the latter giving the necessary pleasantries before shuffling the trio down to the former.

Ron gave a pleading face that earned a swift smack from Pansy, dolled up in an intricate silver piece that wove around her neck with delicate sparkles suggesting an outrageous price tag.

"You truly are outrageous Pans," Draco murmured, leaning in to kiss her once on each cheek. She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at Draco as a small smile crept onto her face. "Wait until you see what I got you for Christmas," she whispered back conspiratorially.

Draco shuddered and shared a wounded look with Ron, who heard the entire exchange and nodded his condolences.

The group promised to reunite once the pair were freed from their (read: Pansy's) self-imposed torture and entered the oversized ballroom decorated for the occasion.

Harry was picked off from the group early on by a handful of elderly groupies, the type who always pulled Harry in to regale them with details of his adventures and updates on his day-to-day existence and while it was embarrassing, several were influential people and all in all they were well meaning. Still, he gave Draco a look that made it difficult not to cackle.

That left Hermione and Draco alone, but not for long. Hermione spotted _so and so_ from _whatever_ event and so began a long string of introductions and re-introductions, almost all of which went well. It seemed, based on some of the reactions around them, that Hermione was selective on who to introduce Draco to. Thankfully, as his best friend was the architect behind the evening, no one made a truly audible fuss about his presence.

Harry rejoined the group once or twice, summoned away by a group within the Wizengamot Harry was working with on a piece of legislation and again by the star guest of the evening, the Minister himself. Draco was grateful that Hermione never left Draco to his own devices, perhaps sensing his reluctance and social anxiety from her spot at his arm.

Draco smiled and made a slight show of offering her his hand, pulling her to the centre of the room where several couples had already been dancing. The two danced a simple waltz, one that Hermione managed competently and even elegantly for one who hadn't received formal training throughout her youth.

"Tradsies!"

Draco looked up to see an impatient and expectant Pansy, who immediately slipped into the position Hermione dutifully backed out of and began to lead. Draco swiftly took over, noticing that Hermione led Ron, although doing it because he needed the help and not because she was a dictator on the dance floor.

"Little's changed, huh?" Draco asked with a smile, turning his attention back to his dance partner.

Pansy gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders, her eyes betraying her amusement at the sight of her long-time boyfriend being guided about.

"Do you remember when we were young and I taught you to have a house elf make a cranny in your room impermeable by magic? You chose the air duct above your bed," Pansy explained, her voice low but the excitement clear.

Draco nodded, remembering how difficult it had been originally to pile books on the bedside table and balance on them as he tucked every treasure he owned at eight years of age away for safe keeping from peeping parents.

Pansy continued, her smile more pronounced as she made a visible effort to keep her voice down. "I had guessed you might have stored a few things there after the end of the war."

Draco tilted his head, curious as to what she was getting at. She was right, of course, because the hiding spot had held up so well and had been improved by his own subtle additions over the years. Also, as a full grown man, it was much easier to reach.

"I called in a favor and had the hiding spot searched, the contents removed and brought to me. I have them in my study under heavy guard. It's all there: the Malfoy signet ring, your grandfathers pocket watch, your sketchbook, all of it."

Draco couldn't believe the risk she'd taken, especially not knowing the contents if any before committing to it. Without much thought he leaned down and hugged her tightly, kissing her right cheek. She laughed, glad to have earned a positive response from him, before smacking his shoulder and forcing him to release her.

"Jeez, put you up with a pair of lions for a few months and you get all _touchy-feely_."

The two continued to dance, Pansy regaling Draco with tales of the near disasters that could have ruined the evening. His joke about cracking the whip earned a betraying tint to her cheeks that made Draco equal parts disgusted and amused, fighting the urge to gag in order to tease her mercilessly.

When Ron peeked up over Hermione's head several feet away at the angry screeching sound Pansy was making, Draco mimed cracking the whip over her head with an all knowing wink that immediately turned Ron a devastated shade of puce, which only served to make Draco laugh even louder.

When Ron and Pansy left to find 'more mature people', Draco found his way back to Hermione, who had long since abandoned Ron and his two left feet to sit at an empty table on the dimply lit balcony just beyond several sets of French doors, magically charmed against the elements and surprisingly empty.

"I imagine it will fill up out here when they launch the fireworks," Hermione said as Draco joined her, gesturing over her shoulder where Draco could barely make out a set of men preparing what was likely explosives from Weasley Wheezes, a safe bet given that one of the proprietors was dating the hostess.

"I spoke with Harry yesterday, while you and Mother were out," Draco began, taking a seat next to Hermione and looking her over. She looked a little tired but the forest green lace ball gown she had on and the expensive diamonds at her neck distracted from the emerging bags beneath her eyes. Her hair was pulled into a chignon, a look Draco was growing fond of on her, pinned back by yet more diamonds.

 _I wonder if I had known Hermione first as a grown women, powerful and exquisite, if things would have gone differently than meeting her as a nerdy little girl with hair too big for her body…_

"I don't know how he can be so okay with what happened to him. I used to hate him and I'm absolutely livid on his behalf," Draco muttered, not quite ready to acknowledge or discuss the kiss. Hermione didn't seem to notice his mind wander at the end though as she nodded, reaching out and grabbing Draco's hand and giving it a light squeeze.

"He's a weird one."

Draco smiled at her attempt at humor and was suddenly transported through memory to the day she walked him home for the first time, the claws of Azkaban still deeply embedded in him, and she made some stupid play on words and it was like every horrible thing he had done had been absolved in that moment. She wasn't looking at him the way so many others did: a terrorist. A killer. A monster.

She was looking at him with those beautiful brown eyes and before he could control himself, he'd leaned forward and softly kissed her lips. Her response was instant, leaning into him while a small whimper escaped. She stood to try and break free but Draco was faster, standing with her and kissing her all the while, his hands snaking up to her arms as he pulled her in and forced her lips apart.

Kissing Harry had been like lightning; earth shattering, magnificent, and over too quickly to appreciate the beauty until later. Kissing Hermione though was all consuming and Draco was able to pour all of his hate and his love and his confusion into the kiss that was definitely _not_ over too soon.

They didn't stop until both were breathing raggedly, struggling to catch their breaths. One of Hermione's hands found itself tangled in Draco's hair and the other gripped the side of his neck, holding him down at her height. His hands had moved from her arms to cradle her at the small of her back, her beautiful, lithe frame being pulled tightly against his own slim form.

"Draco… this isn't right… we can't do this," Hermione whispered, her voice broken. Draco leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, enjoying the silence pierced by their heavy inhaling.

"Because we live together? Because you saved me? I can make this decision, Hermione. You're not forcing me into some perverted servitude or using me against my will. Let me show you how right this is…" he tried, leaning in to kiss her again.

At first he thought he had succeeded but she pulled back, his bottom lip slowly scraping through her teeth as he discovered the carnal pleasures of this delicate woman's nibbles. She shook her head, kissing along his smooth, pale neck.

"Neither of us can make an adult decision here…We should just go back inside, pretend this didn't happen," she whispered, although the pair remained entirely undisturbed on the balcony.

Draco shook his head, pulling back in order to look Hermione in the eyes and demonstrate his seriousness. "I absolutely refuse to pretend that this didn't happen. I would much rather go home and discuss for hours why this should absolutely be allowed to continue on. I happen to believe very firmly in my side of the argument."

Hermione blushed lightly, unable to argue with a wonderfully confident Draco. He had that cocky grin she memorized from their youth but without the malice, it had a certain charming quality. She figured she would regret it but what would be the harm in just _discussing_ the idea?

"Okay. Let's go home."

By the time the French doors reopened, the couple that had been entwined on the balcony had disappeared with a quiet _pop_ , their disappearance only noticed by one man.

* * *

 _Authors note: One more guys..._


	33. Chapter 33 - The Holidays (Part Four)

Hermione asked for a few minutes to get out of her dress and into something more comfortable, leaving Draco to organize his thoughts. He undressed mindlessly, his focus on rehearsing arguments he'd made in dreams as he swapped to some dark colour satin pajama bottoms and a simple white tee. He brushed his teeth and tidied up his room to keep his hands busy until he figured Hermione had to be ready and found himself across the hallway, knocking tentatively at her door.

"Come in!" came a familiar voice, albeit shakier than usual.

The first thing Draco noticed was that she looked just as nervous as him, wringing her hands as she jerked her head towards the settee facing the fireplace. She took one side, sitting with her legs tucked securely beneath her and a pillow against her chest as a sort of self-imposed restraint. One hand twirled a strand of her liberated curls, still struggling to reach beyond her delicately covered shoulders; the other held the cushion tightly, the strain in her hand visible.

Draco's eyes washed over her as he took a seat across from her on the other end of the small, intimate settee. She wore a knee length mauve coloured silk nightgown with lace at the neck, covered by an equally short black robe. Draco peeked up from her cushion to her face, illuminated by the raging fire and rose tinted from his appraisal. Her lips were still red from the party earlier, but seemed to be sporting a fresh layer of sheen beneath her teeth as she bit into her bottom lip, waiting for him to speak.

"Let's look at this logically," Draco began, speaking slowly and watching Hermione for any reaction, good or bad. "Despite years of thinking to the contrary, we are very well suited. We're both very smart, both very competitive, and while we have a lot in common, we are also polar opposites in other ways. We could learn a lot from each other," Draco began.

Hermione smiled softly, her grip loosening on the cushion and her teeth releasing her lower lip. Draco continued.

"We can approach this from a purely experimental stance. One date, one chance to see if this is a flight of fancy or something with potential."

Hermione tensed up again, and Draco immediately raised his hands to cut her off before she could jump in.

"I am fully capable of making this decision! I know that I owe you my life and this is _not_ how I intend to 'repay' you," Draco rushed, with heavy emphasis. Hermione made to open her mouth and add something but he couldn't let her just yet. He couldn't let her try and talk them out of this when he still wasn't sure what this was yet, but knew that he wanted it and damn her if she was going to try and logic her way out of it.

"When I'm with you – and Harry – it's not like the war didn't happen. It doesn't magically go away but I don't feel as dirty as I used to. With you, I'm just Draco. I did horrible things but I'm not a horrible thing. I've gotten the chance to be a real human again and I want to do that with you, and preferably with kisses and maybe someday more, or maybe not. I want the chance to explore with you."

Draco couldn't even recognize the words he spoke but they seemed to be resonating with Hermione. She didn't speak right away, expecting him to jump in at first and then chewing over everything he said before she said anything at all.

If she were being completely honest with herself, she found herself completely enraptured by the blond across from her. She had several hang ups, not all of which could probably be resolved in one night. Prime among them, despite her initial arguments, had nothing to do with Draco at all: she loved Harry too.

Which wasn't to say that she _loved_ Draco yet but she could see, as she assumed he could from his passionate argument, that there was a potential for so much more there. If he had been just a pompous boy at an ordinary private school and there had been no magic and no bigotry and ultimately no war, Hermione could easily imagine befriending him as he grew up and they were forced together in the smaller, higher level classes where logic defeated hatred and maybe find that something more with him.

But magic and war had happened, and somehow that made the potential for them even greater. He would understand her nightmares, she knew, because she knew he had them too. Their scars were different but they both appreciated how they got them and in that could a beautiful relationship grow, be it friendship or love.

Her love for Harry was unquestionable. Her almost-love for Draco undeniable and intoxicating. The sheer power of the _what-if_ had her mind burning from all the racing.

"Then there's something I should tell you," she started. She reached out, the hand that had been preoccupied in her hair now touching one of Draco's hands. She had to proceed with caution on this topic, aware that the wrong wording could spook the Slytherin for good. He could decide he wants to date her and that would be fine. He could decide he wants to give Harry a chance, Harry who elicits such a strong reaction from Draco and always has.

Or maybe he would consider them both.

"I'm not your only option."

. . . . .

"But I thought you said you loved Hermione? I thought we rooted through your family's vault for that old necklace of your mum's because you said you were finally ready to tell her you loved her?" Ron asked, struggling to keep up given the hour.

Harry couldn't blame him, really. He wasn't quite sure why he reached out to Ron at 3 a.m, well after the party had finished, but it was clear _he_ wasn't going home any time soon.

"We did because I do. But it doesn't matter now," Harry said with a sickening tone of finality.

"Because you kissed Malfoy and it was amazing?" Ron asked, echoing Harry from earlier. The optimism in his voice saddened Harry, who was on his third drink already and priming for a forth. "It was and he is but that doesn't matter either."

"Why, though? You floo me asking for advice but you've barely told me anything," Ron accused, taking a long drink from his drink while Harry struggled with the words he was so heartbroken to say.

"It doesn't matter that I might love them both because they've decided on each other. So I will go on loving them and do nothing to interrupt. Draco needs someone to love all of his own and Hermione has been alone for so long. I couldn't do anything to hurt her, never. And Draco deserves a chance to be happy for once. He's had a shit go of life in recent years. And now he has something truly amazing, all to himself."

Ron looked as though he were about to say something but the shudder Harry gave before silent tears dripped down his face became visible stopped him. He set a hand on his best mates shoulder and squeezed tightly, his heart breaking as Harry struggled to catch his breath, his own heart breaking with each admission.

"They have each other now. No one needs me. Not like that."

. . . . .

Harry returned from the pub feeling less horrible but still a long ways from good. He should have taken the floo and gone straight to his bedroom and swiftly into bed but somehow walking home seemed like a good idea and would have been if Draco hadn't been in the kitchen when Harry returned.

"Hey."

They stood, facing each other, in relative silence. Harry tried to pull a smile onto his face, years of hiding his emotions giving him armour that felt ill-fitting in this situation.

"You and Hermione, huh?" he asked, easing himself into it. His voice didn't fail him, which was a victory in and of itself.

"Treat her good. She's better than either of us deserve."

And before Harry could focus on the tussled look of Draco's hair or the smell of Hermione on his clothing, he disappeared up the stairs, the glass of water he'd been after forgotten.

Draco watched as Harry left, his heart hammering away in his chest as it dropped into his stomach with each step Harry took on the staircase. When finally the sound of Harry's door slamming shut silenced the night, Draco set down the glass of water he'd been sipping in the sink and let out a shaky exhale.

He would have to make a decision soon.

* * *

Authors note: I'm so sorry for the forty day gap but I've sketched out how I expect the story to go from here and with that, I hope I can get back into a writing pattern again. My goal is twice a week updates, so hold me to it: more-to-it-than-blood on tumblr is a great way to hound me for more.


	34. Chapter 34

_Later that night_

Hermione had every intention of having 'the talk' with Harry later that night. Narcissa had had the talk with her, explaining and promising that in the magical community, it was actually fairly common for relationships to include more than two people.

If Narcissa Malfoy approved, it had to be acceptable.

But when she slipped into his room, it was empty. She had heard him come in, knew he had gone out for a drink with Ron thanks to Pansy but his room was empty. And when Hermione woke up hours later in Harry's bed, having dozed off waiting for him, it was still empty.

She rubbed at her eyes and wrapped her robe tightly around her body, her brow creased in disappointment. She had been hesitating since shortly after her birthday when the revelation hit, waiting for some sign to proceed from either man. Now that Draco had taken the leap, she needed to talk to Harry. Where was Harry?

She left his room and walked past hers and Draco's, going first to the kitchen to start the first pot of tea. It was only by chance that she noticed the note laying in the table in the familiar chicken scratch.

 _Got bullied into a mission in Ireland again – will be out of touch for a few weeks but I'll check in._

 _Harry_

Hermione traced the spot where his _y_ scribbled off the edge, her heart thumping hard against her chest and echoing in her ears. Tears prickled at the edge of her eyes and she didn't know why. There was no way Harry could know what she was planning to talk to him about, was there? He had been an awful occulimens in school and she had no reason to think he'd been picking up legimency in his spare time.

 _No, it's just a coincidence. He's not hiding from me, that's ridiculous._

But he was. That much was apparent when New Year's came and went before even the first 'check-in' came in the form of a small note saying that he would be there a while longer and not to worry, with nothing else said. While Harry had been something of a private person growing up, Hermione had always appreciated his quality letter writing - especially in contrast to that of Ron's.

She missed those days.

It helped, though, to have Draco there. Draco who found her minutes after she had wiped away her tears and tucked Harry's note away and kissed her cheek, tentatively checking that nothing had changed. Draco, who insisted on making dinner that evening and took her for a stroll through the local park afterwards. Draco, who for the next few weeks never let Hermione burrow too deep into herself with worry for Harry, who missed Harry too but never mentioned seeing him the night of the ball because deep down he knew it was absolutely his fault Harry had left.

Weeks turned into months and in March the pair went off to Turkey like Hermione had promised with her Christmas gift, then returned in April - no sign of Harry yet - for their friends wedding rehearsal dinner, and so it was that they found themselves at Nott Manor early on a Saturday morning. Draco and Theo embraced warmly while Hermione and Astoria exchanged pleasantries that to anyone listening in – in particular any busybodies related to Astoria – would seem to be those of two barely acquainted witches.

Hermione smiled quietly to herself as Draco led her to their table, past a pair of gossiping aunts, and thought victoriously how things would change once Astoria was freed from her family and their prejudices.

Draco had been explained his simple part in the ceremony and completed it dutifully, having been to more than enough weddings growing up to have the entire process memorized. Hermione smiled to her friends, Daphne flanking her little sister, as they made sure that the process of entering the circle and the tying of the bonds would be flawless.

Hermione mulled over Harry when her mind wandered. She had planned to come with him when she'd gotten her invitation over a year ago, but now she couldn't even get a hold of him.

"Thinking about him?"

Hermione's attention was drawn to her left, where a gorgeous blond wizard was leaning in for a kiss. She reciprocated and nodded, watching as her date – and boyfriend, although with Harry gone it was hard to enjoy that part so much – as he slipped into his seat. Their meals were magically plated, the work of a meticulous house-elf staff.

"It's hardest when I know he should be here. He was supposed to be here," she admitted, her tone entirely out of place at the jubilant luncheon.

"I'm sure he'll come to regret the decision when he finds out about the silver dress you'll be wearing tomorrow night," Draco murmured into her hand as he brought it up to his lips for a simple kiss, hoping to distract her from her own mind. He was rewarded with a faint blush on his witches cheek that faded all too quickly.

"I know you've said there was no way he could have known what I was going to talk to him about but what if he did? What if the thought of me – of us – somehow pushed him away? Harry would never want to hurt either of us… he would rather hide away until we decided to give up on him," Hermione murmured, almost verbatim to the last time her mind went to that dark place, her heart plummeting as she whispered each word. The thoughts had plagued for her weeks but every time she tried to discuss it, Draco would kiss her and promise her nothing she could ever do would scare Harry away. Then after a while she stopped vocalizing her worry, determined to trust in Harry. Harry loved her, and even if he weren't in love with her – which Draco insisted he was – then he would at the very least be honest. But with him noticeably absent now, the worries returned.

Draco knew the problem was him, but Hermione still couldn't seem to grasp that.

"I know you don't want to consider the fact but he likely left because of—"

"Draco, no! He wouldn't have left to hide from dealing with you! He's been doing so much better lately, I hardly believe he would flee in the face of an attraction between the two of you," Hermione said, the ghost of a snarl on her face quickly dissolved as a sweet smile was plastered on and Hermione waved at someone or rather from the Wizengamot who stopped by their table.

Once they pair were left alone again, Draco turned completely to his side and straight to Hermione. She turned and looked at him, her eyes betraying how tired she was and how worried she'd been.

"He left because of me, Hermione mine. I saw him the night we kissed, after I left your room," Draco muttered, finally coming clean about the last time he'd seen the wizard. He couldn't stomach the pain in her eyes any longer. "I went to the kitchen for a glass of water when Harry come home, smelling like a pub. He asked if I were truly with you but before I could say anything, he said that I was to treat you well because you're more than either of us deserve. You are not the problem. I am."

Hermione looked at him, her face torn. She looked relieved to hear that she wasn't in fact the reason Harry had fled to Ireland, but the thought that Draco believed he was had made her chest clench tightly.

"Harry was raised by those awful muggles, and even if he had been raised by a normal, loving family…" Hermione began, stopping for a loving thought of her own family, "Well, muggles don't traditionally support polyamorous relationships. They're hardly tolerant of same sex couples or interracial couples, but multiple partners? Absolutely not."

As the final piece of the puzzle fell in place, Harry's words echoing in her mind, Hermione leaned back into her seat with a heavy sigh.

"He didn't leave because of you, Draco. He left because he thought we'd chosen each other and neither one of us wanted him."

Those words sat between the two of them, sucking the happiness from the room when they should have been celebrating their two friends on the eve of their wedding.

Somewhere, supposedly in Ireland, Harry was so very alone and it was _their_ fault.

* * *

 _AN: Surprise! This story has been on hiatus for so long but truthfully this chapter has been written forever. It's just what comes next that I've struggled with. I let the story get away from me, running wildly away from my original outline. I haven't been able to reconcile what happened with what was meant to happen next or even rope it into a newly mandated ending, so instead, I'm posting this and then maybe the next chapter and on and on until it just comes to its own logical ending. That's how magic works, right? This is especially for **Shayalonnie** , whose writing has been pulling me back into my love of fan fiction. Her writing is a balm for my writers blocked soul. _


	35. Chapter 35

_**Quick note!** There were some timeline consistency issues in the previous chapter I hadn't noticed when I published, and a few typos too. Sorry about that! They're all corrected now, and here's the first new chapter written in over a hundred years - do let me know if it feels odd or different._

* * *

 _Friday, April 26, 2002_

Harry straightened up spine and sipped the last of his coffee as he readied for Theo and Astoria's wedding. He had hoped to stay out of the country a bit longer, even had a new story about visiting Bulgaria for some time now that the weather had warmed up, but he knew that if Pansy didn't kill him, then Daphne would.

 _Why we ever became friends with Slytherin witches is beyond me…_

He had written to Ron to let him know that he would be swinging by his flat to get ready, still unable to bring himself to face Argyll Place, and together the two wizards would leave for the Manor. Pansy had gone ahead as part of the ceremony, oblivious to Harry's attendance. According to Ron, that was a very smart move on Harry's part.

"Not only were the lot of them losing their minds thinking you might not come in the end but Hermione and Malfoy haven't been the same since you left," Ron explained in a small voice, not quite making eye contact.

Harry snorted, not keen to discuss the couple so soon but couldn't help himself. "I'd imagine Skeeter's column might have had something to do with it."

Rita Skeeter had, it seems, been a long-time friend of the Greengrass family – explaining how they got more of a pass than any other pureblooded family following the war – and spotted Hermione and Draco snuggled in closely at the wedding rehearsal earlier that week. The Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday papers all had front page coverage of the two of them with extensive commentary and public concern between the subsequent pages.

 _ **Breaking News: War hero seduced by Death Eater**_ _!_

 _ **Prophet Exclusive: Draco Malfoy – did he use Imperius?**_

 _ **Opinion: Has Hermione Granger forced Draco Malfoy into sexual servitude?**_

The first article piqued Harry's interest largely because of the couple featured dancing in the centre photo: a smiling couple in a smart black suit and glittering silver dress, curled intimately into each others arms, happily celebrating at a clearly private function with friends. He could see Theo and Pansy chatting in the far edge of the frame but the couple were oblivious to anyone watching and so was Harry. The photo had obviously been taken by a friend given the lack of reaction by the participants in it, and either been stolen or sold to the paper after the fact.

The second headline barely elicited a response from Harry, no new photo above the fold to overwhelm him, and besides - the idea was insulting and pedestrian.

While the last headline had originally gotten a smirk from Harry, the article itself brought up the very real possibility that the Ministry might have something to say about the fact that Draco could potentially be spending his parole while happily in a relationship with the woman who'd had him released from Azkaban early.

They would not be too keen about that.

So Harry returned, thanking his friends with the Ireland office for putting him up for a few months, and braced himself for what was to come. He was going to have to testify to the Wizengamot, he just knew he would, to make sure Hermione and Draco could be together.

He would do it even though it killed him.

"Skeeter went too far with that one. Didn't matter that she had to write a retraction the very next day, it did what she wanted. Mione nearly had be to restrained. The Greengrass's canned her wedding invite, despite how big of a deal it would be, because even they thought that was in awful taste," Ron said, gesturing for Harry to fix his tie.

Harry did, then finished the touches on his own outfit, a three piece suit he had Kreacher pull from his closet when he was certain it would be safe to send the elf over. He fastened his beloved gold watch to his wrist, refusing to let his mind dwell with his heart on the morning Draco had smiled to him and waved his own gifted watch back with appreciation. Harry had spent so long looking up details on what goes into a pureblood scion's watch, and had gotten details from Narcissa on Draco's first watch. But he couldn't dwell on that now.

With both men dressed to the nines, they found their way to the portkey invitation waiting on the breakfast nook and took hold.

They were escorted through a wonderful hall, lined with small groups catching up before the nuptials. Ron played the part of the political spouse well, Harry thought, making sure to point the right people towards his girlfriend and being polite to those who mattered. Harry wondered who would tend toward that role between Draco and Hermione and found himself smirking at the face either would make at the assumption that either of them would let the other take over all the politicking.

Everything he saw and everything he did somehow came back to them. Meals he cooked reminded him of sandwiches at Christmas with Draco and a single kiss that still haunted him. Books he read made his hands ache for Hermione and her curled up form sleeping under his arms. Every nightmare he endured made him weep twice as hard because they both needed him once but now they had each other and no one needed him but Harry needed them both so badly and he missed them both so much.

"Mister Potter, why it's been some time!"

Harry smiled and nodded, not entirely sure who he was talking to but taking his cue from Ron who was playing nicely. He explained the training and investigation program he had helped implement in Ireland, a cooperative endeavor by the two countries auror departments and the required time it meant spending away from home, teaching the hit wizards of tomorrow to think more with their mind than their wands.

Satisfied and chuckling, the old man went back to answering whatever it was Ron had put to the man and Harry slipped back into his own mind. It was a terrible idea to come back but if he could make it through today, he could disappear again for a while. That's what Draco and Hermione needed. Time to discover each other and learn how to be together. Harry would only get in the way, his broken heart dripping all over the place.

No, couldn't have that.

They made their way further down the hallway and Harry's heart ached at every beautiful blue dress, hoping and fearing he would see Hermione in one of them. Blue had always been such a beautiful colour on her, he thought, memories of their fourth year Yule ball swimming around his mind. But to Harry's dismay and great fortune, they found their seats in the main hall without running into the two people Harry wanted and feared most to see, although he craned his neck to check every occupied seat in the dizzying circle the aisles had been sorted into just in case.

Harry had been roped into attending a handful of wedding since the end of the war, some in the name of politics and others that came as a result of friendships forged with Slytherins. Not that the other houses didn't respond to the end of the war by getting hitched in outrageous numbers, but the Slytherins made much more of a to do about it.

That Theo and Astoria had waited this long confused many, but Harry knew it was likely born of both parties interest in seeing Draco Malfoy a free man first.

The ceremony started and the groom walked through the overly largely circle of seated guests to the centre, where an official waited on the elevated dais to bind the couple for eternity. Following him in succinct step was Draco.

Harry's breath hitched. The photo leaked to the Prophet did nothing to prepare Harry for the moment he saw Draco again. The months of love from Hermione had taken a very visible tole on him, his confidence somewhat returned and his physical appearance matching. He hadn't looked this healthy in years and while part of Harry reacted very physically to how Draco was filling out his robes, his heart ached with pride at how far Draco had come back from the depths of Azkaban and into the man before him.

He was grateful that Ron was to his left and that the single tear he couldn't reign back slid down his right cheek.

However, one witch a few aisles away did notice, with tears of her own nearly distracting her but not for a second shifting her stare from the black haired wizard her heart had been aching for for so long.

* * *

 _AN: So I don't know if you've all seen Beauty and the Beast yet but Evermore is pretty much the theme song to this chapter for all three of our protagonists. Specifically Dan Stevens' rendition, and by the way, wouldn't he have been such a better Draco for this fic?_


	36. Chapter 36

Hermione cried quietly as she watched Harry. Watching him reminded her so much of the little boy she first fell in love with; never quite comfortable, looking so very alone when no one was paying him much mind. Of course Hermione always was, first to study the peculiar boy and eventually because she found comfort in him. He had always been her best friend, had always had her heart. It just wasn't until the later years when he seemed to realize that and then possibly fell for her too.

Or at least she thought he had. She really did think he loved her too, but then he left, shaking her conviction. He sent so few owls and whatever she sent went unacknowledged for weeks. She'd taken a day trip to Ireland and happened to slip into the auror's offices but Harry was away, they said, on the field. They looked at her with eyes that told her she shouldn't come back and so she didn't. She knew if she pushed harder, he would go further away – he needed to come back when he was ready, something Hermione struggled with after years of his running headlong into every possible problem only to avoid any sign of conflict following the war.

But here Harry was, finally, a tear streaming down his cheek.

After Draco told her about the last conversation the two of them had shared, the irrational fear that Harry didn't love her in return faded because a darker thought replaced it: Harry didn't leave because he didn't love them, but because he loved them so much it hurt, hurt too much to stay.

And so he ran and Hermione sort of understood why but it hurt so much when he wasn't there. When Ron had ran so many years ago it hurt but losing Harry was so different. She loved both men, but without the war to feed her fear of death, her mind instead focused on sadness, isolation, desperation, loneliness: all Harry's, and he wouldn't let her in to fix this.

She hadn't been able to dwell on that long though before because Draco would remind her that it was his fault, if for no other reason than because he figured Harry knew how much Draco needed space to worth through learning to love Hermione – while his heart was all for trying, there was a long history to work through together, but he wanted this so badly. Draco would whisper as much into Hermione's thigh, her stomach, her chest, the crook of her shoulder and neck, just how much he understood where Harry was coming from: he wouldn't be able to bare the pain of watching the two of them and feeling like there was no place for him in either of their hearts once he came to terms with how he felt.

But of course that wasn't the case, and the moment Hermione saw the mist build in those beautiful green eyes, all of those tearful nights and lonely mornings were forgotten. Months and moments, all disappeared: Hermione loved him all the same now as she had then, the hurt pushed away as she ran her eyes over him. All in one piece. And he cared, _really did care._ That was all that mattered.

Harry hid himself away in some muddy hole in Ireland with some poor Irish trainees to shield himself from the love he thought was barred to him but Hermione and Draco grew and feel deeply into a love that was built for three and would never be complete without Harry. If he left again, if he turned away from them after they'd had a chance to tell him how they felt, it would all fall apart. They both accepted that, and the very real possibility that could happen. They hoped their friendship could endure, but knew their romance couldn't otherwise.

But Hermione refused to let that happen. Hermione was absolutely certain of her love, both for Draco and for Harry, and when Draco would talk to her about his times with Harry, both before and after Azkaban, she could tell he was sincere too. Ever since she promised him that he could have her and Harry, if that was what he wanted, it became _everything_ he wanted.

He hadn't dared hoped to find love again after the atrocities of the war, he had admitted, but he found it so natural and ready when he let his walls down and let Harry and Hermione in.

Luna had told Draco once that he only thought he loved Hermione and Harry. She told Hermione about this months into the dark period without Harry, admitting that she was just challenging Draco to verify for himself whether or not he did because he seemed to have come to her looking for her to decide for him, to assure him what he was feeling.

Hermione snorted at that and wiped her eyes dry carefully, agreeing, and thinking privately that he and Harry had that terrible character flaw of missing the obvious in common.

Early on when she had worried Harry had run away because of her, she figured it was out of fear of making whatever their bond was something real, _all or nothing_. Then, in private, she worried that perhaps loving Draco, a former Death Eater and his childhood nemesis was just too much, but always shut Draco down when echoed the sentiment. It seemed all three of them struggled with being precious to someone else, and Hermione was determined to fix that.

Draco stood on the elevated dais, serving at Theo's side opposite of Daphne Greengrass attending to Astoria. How many of these rituals had he watched growing up? It helped his body to run on something akin to muscle memory and let his mind drift.

Eventually his eyes did too, and he spotted Harry.

A triumphant smirk broke out on Draco's face when Harry caught his eye. He'd searched for him among the early guests but couldn't find that telltale mop of hair in the crowd. But there he was, three rows deep in one of the four quadrants of seats sitting next to Ron Weasley – those eyes made him unmistakable.

Draco reigned the smile in just as Theo noticed and gave him a subtle elbow to the ribs, the smile passing like wild fire from Draco's face to Theo's to Astoria's and then Daphne's. Everyone had seen how hurt and wounded Draco and Hermione were without Harry, despite navigating their new and tender and tentative love as well. Theo and Astoria had theories about what would happen when Harry returned.

None that Hermione would confirm with anything beyond a traitorous blush, and they knew better than to waste time asking Draco because he had no tells or giveaways, perfect Slytherin that he is.

Hermione saw the smile spread throughout the faces of her friends and buried her mortified face in her hands, not sure she could survive until the reception.

. . . . .

Draco hadn't gotten more than four feet out of the central circular ballroom before a set of old crones cornered him to inquire about his mother. He patiently fielded their questions, promised to pass on their regards, and forced his way through the thongs of party goers. Some were ambling towards the floos to leave but the majority were being led outside to the magically heated and unnaturally lush gardens for the reception.

With the accuracy of a talented Seeker, Draco spotted Hermione, herself trapped in the company of a half dozen or so colleagues from work. She looked to him, not with a plea for rescue, but with her trademark _do it or else_ look. He nodded and bowed slightly, flashing a nervous smile before shifting his search for that mop of black hair, those green eyes and the stone grey three piece suit Hermione had gotten freshly pressed and laid out _just in case_.

Harry was alone, nursing a drink at the farthest end of the gardens where a small stream cut off the edge of the property. Determined, Draco cast a subtle notice-me-not on himself and pushed through the crowd, avoiding all wandering eyes and within a few agonizing moments came out of the crush to see Harry hadn't seen Draco coming until it was too late.

"Harry."

"Draco."

Draco closed the space between them until only a foot of space separated them, controlling himself. His eyes traced up and down Harry's form, confirming that every limb was accounted for, before nodding his head with a small smirk.

"You look almost as pale as me. Doesn't quite suit you as well."

Harry's mouth dropped slightly, unprepared for the comment, before a wobbly laugh burst out. His empty hand rubbed down his tired face and over his greatly reduced beard, nodding as he rubbed his jaw for comfort.

"I was underground a lot, both figuratively and literally. At least there won't be any tan lines if I give up on the beard," Harry mused, looking for a safe topic. They both shared a boyish smile at the conjured image but the silence soon settled between them.

"You didn't say goodbye," Draco said when the silence had made its point.

Harry began to fidget, uncomfortable with the hard gaze Draco had coupled with the soft tone of his voice, and nodded reluctantly.

"I know, and I'm sorry. The project had been something that was tossed around a lot last year but I pushed it to the back burner when we went about getting you settled in, and when they asked me to go out after Christmas, I figured I was overdue. It was nothing personal."

Draco snorted indelicately, crossing his arms and glowering at Harry. "I don't know how stupid you think either of us are but I would strongly recommend against trying that line on Hermione."

Harry flushed and looked at his shoes, growing increasingly uncomfortable and taking the longest sip from his beer possible. _I knew I shouldn't have come. I knew Hermione would be on my case for bailing but she's gotten Draco trained to kill too. She must be even more annoyed than Ron said._

Draco's annoyance cracked with the sight of Harry drawing deeper into himself and he took a gamble by reaching out tentatively and taking Harry's empty hand. The anxious man looked up, the intimacy of it all setting his heart racing. "We kissed at Christmas and I thought it meant something. You left though without a word," Draco went on.

Harry squinted slightly, his head falling to a slight rightward tilt. He didn't let go though as their fingers gently laced.

"You're with Hermione now, so I don't see how that matters. Not that it didn't matter or anything! I'm sorry if my leaving made things.. I don't know, harder for you?" Harry stumbled, his eyes locking with Draco's for the first time. Really locking, too: Draco wouldn't even need to utter the words to delve into Harry's mind, his confusing and concern painted bluntly all over his expression.

"Hermione and I have been waiting for you to come home long enough. It's not been home without you, and.." but Draco couldn't find the words. Why couldn't he just have gotten Harry to come with him and Hermione that first night-

 _Oh, that's an option.._

And Draco closed the foot of distance between himself and Harry and kissed him squarely. Where their first kiss had been sudden, explosive, and over all too soon, this time they both melted in and settled against each other, one hand entwined each, Harry's beer forgotten.

* * *

And thus we've venture into unwritten territory, off the charted path of the original plot and into whatever the hell comes next. I've changed my username if you hadn't noticed, and done up a new tumblr too: mescerises . tumblr . com


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